Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ben: "And you speak to your mother with that mouth? Shameful."
Griff: "My mother does not hide behind doors and corners to frighten me at every available opportunity!"
(B & G conversation on Polite Language 8 years prior)
As the words left her mouth and the soft robe lay in folds about her ankles, Amy suddenly realised how naked she was. Her sentiments had been overwrought with everything Oliver meant to her and she hadn't fully comprehended the effect of her disrobing before him... but she had, and she staved off the urge to yank the garment back up and cinch it tight.
He had never seen her naked before, nor she him. Their dalliances and caresses to date had been stolen moments in shadows, carriages and dusty bookshops, with most of their attire on, and even that one time so very long ago she had been so painfully shy at the time she had squeezed her eyes shut or averted her gaze entirely. And presently she became aware of just that as she bared herself to him in a none too subtle an invitation.
Especially since Oliver appeared to have frozen in place, his mouth slack and slightly open while his eyes glazed over behind the spectacles perched on his nose. And that is all he did for some time, and many seconds ticked by unerringly as he simply stared at her with the same, vacantly stupid expression on his face to the extent that she felt herself turn unbearably self-conscious.
She knew she was not built slim or delicate, rather quite the opposite with generous curves emboldening her hips and breasts, and parts of her positively wobbled at the slightest movement, and she was horribly conscious of just how unappealing those parts of her could be. A flush began to flare over her skin and Amy lifted her hands, intending to fold her arms over her breasts at his continued state of immobilisation that would put Michelangelo's David to shame.
As she did, he tensed and made a stiff jerk of his jaw to one side, indicative of his opposing her intentions to cover parts of her from him- and suddenly he changed.
Amy froze as the short distance of air between them became charged. His face hardened, his mouth a firm line against a rigid jaw that began to flex, all the while his eyes burned with intensity, devouring her form as he moved them over every exposed inch of her. It was so unapologetically bold the way he was looking at her now that her body reacted in kind to his perusal, a convulsion of heat and yearning coiling low in her abdomen.
When his examination was complete, those brilliantly green eyes met hers unwaveringly, imprisoning her with their lucidity as the bronzed light from the hearth caught the lenses of his spectacles. Wordlessly, he lifted an arm behind his shoulders and nearly ripped the loose shirt from his shoulders, tossing it to the side, tousling his damp hair even further.
Lord, would she ever tire of the sight of him? Shirtless and gloriously rumpled, as if he had just tumbled from the bed, was sure to murder any smidgen of propriety that still lingered tentatively on the peripherals of her sensibilities. Before she had time to admire him further, his hands dropped to the waist of his trousers, his fingers unfastening the buttons from their placards, and then the garment joined hers to pool about his feet.
She understood now why he had momentarily lost all control of his cognitive faculties because as she observed the graceful movement of his limbs as he stepped from his trousers, her gaze was riveted on his very hard, very large erection as it practically unfurled from his clothing. She had to remind herself that he had fitted inside her once before, that her body had adjusted to his girth and length and that she was certainly no naïve virgin to feel the shock that she did as she gazed upon him. She recalled stroking him a few days ago, how he felt wrapped in her hands and the way her fingertips had not been able to meet as they curled about him.
His cock twitched then, as if amused by her recollections that were simultaneously arousing her and making her nervous, and she guiltily ripped her gaze away from that part of his anatomy. She had been staring at it for a long time, after all. When she found his eyes again, there was amusement in their heated depths, but when he spoke his voice was hard, serrated with the effects of his own ardour. "Get in the bed, Griff."
The command made her eyes widen even though the effect of a controlling Oliver almost devasted her entirely. He turned then and padded surely to the open door of his chambers, securing it shut firmly and affording her a view of a broad set of shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist and taut buttocks. His thighs were strong too, spattered with dark hair and the occasional freckle. She found it rather endearingly that he had retained some of the freckles from his youth.
When he turned back to her, his brow cocked as he found her rooted to exactly the same spot as before despite his eloquent command. "Did I misspeak, Miss Griffiths?" he murmured.
He advanced toward her slowly, all whipcord muscle and leanness, and she found herself ogling the narrow trail of dark hair that spanned up his abdomen to his navel. There was more hair in the centre of his chest between two defined pectoral muscles, though it grew sparsely. She wondered what it would feel like to press her naked breasts-
"Amy."
Right, of course. The bed. She jumped slightly, aware of every part of her that moved under his watchful gaze and endeavoured to walk as enticingly as possible to his mattress. Once she was there, however, she wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. Repose upon his coverlet- but in what way? Thighs and arms akimbo hardly seemed very seductive and lying on her side seemed far too forward, even for her, and the image of what her large breasts would look like in that position made her hesitate entirely, sure it would seem as if the one was trying to engulf the other beneath it. Who knew that the manner in which one entered their lover's bed could pose such a conundrum? Amy unconsciously plunked her hands on her hips, considering the matter very seriously.
"Griff, I told you to get into the bed, not look as if you are about to engage it in a lengthy debate."
His voice was gruffly amused and she tossed him a frown over her shoulder. "Hush, I am considering the matter," she told him pertly. "For both our benefit."
"Sounds intriguing." He came to stand behind her and she felt his hands span her waist, sliding to her front through the crooks her elbows made. Heat suffused her at his nearness and then his fingers splayed against her flesh and she was pulled flush against his hard contours, every enticing edge of his merging into her curves. "I know what you are doing," he whispered against her ear. "This mind of yours is working far too hard right now when it should be focusing on making this body move into my bed."
"I am nervous," Amy admitted sheepishly. She dropped her fists from her hips, trailing her hands along his corded forearms and lacing their fingers together.
"You are concerned about our compatibility," Oliver acknowledged, his voice muffled as he buried his lips against the side of her neck. "Perhaps we may need to attempt making love a few times to get it right, but I am sure it will be rather enjoyable to be inside you again."
A pained sound left her at his words, at the images it projected against her mind, and her heart was bursting with emotion for him- the sweet, wonderful man who was inflicting torture to her neck with his teeth, tongue and lips. His very demanding cock felt incredibly hot against her hip. "That is a concern of mine," she confessed breathlessly, "but not by any fault of yours. I am sure you will be perfect. You are perfect, Ben. I worry that it is I who is lacking, that it is I who will disappoint you."
She sucked in a breath as he suddenly spun her around to face him. His large hands spanned her face, tilting her up to look at him, and the tips of his fingers traced through the locks of her hair behind her ears- a gentle, soothing caress. "You must be mad to think that. The only way you could ever disappoint me is if you decided your mind has changed and you wanted nothing more to do with me." She endeavoured to shake her head vehemently but he held her firm. "If what has happened between us recently is any indication, then I am confident this will be enjoyable for the both of us. Christ, just the thought of your mouth on my cock-" He stifled a groan and tilted his head back for a moment, almost as if he was composing himself, before continuing. "We are not young as before, nor blindly endeavouring to simply get the act done and over with it simply because we can and say that we did. I intend to worship every inch of your body, like I should have done a thousand times before, with my fingers, my lips, my tongue, and you'll be crying for my cock before I am through." Her face was blazing from his words, her thighs clenching together to quell the dampness that was accumulating between them. A predatory smile swept over his wide, sensual lips at her expression before he released her, nudging her backwards. "Now get in the bed."
This time, she only a hesitated a moment before retreating further, her gaze never leaving his, until the back of her thighs bumped against his mattress. She sat on the edge and then leaned on her elbows, shuffling backwards further until she was comfortably reclining against his linen and drew her knees up and closed before her.
He made a sound of disapproval in his throat, an utterly feral noise, and her heart fluttered wildly at the sight of him following her. The mattress dipped as he added his weight, shifting fluidly towards her on his knees, stopping before her legs. His hands splayed against the top of each of her knees. "Do not," he said emphatically, "hide yourself from me. Ever." He thrust her legs apart and she gasped.
"Ben!"
But his attention was centred on the aching place between her legs while her heart beat frantically within her chest. It was shocking to be so thoroughly exposed to him and the expression on Oliver's mien was ferocious in its intensity as he considered her. Resisting the urge to squirm, she shifted her knees only to find them imprisoned by his grasp, as if he were holding her wide for him.
Why did that make her so hot and needy?
"Ben," she said again, her voice a thready breath of sound that captured his reluctant attention. "Please, I..."
He sat back on his haunches, between her calves, and gave her a sultry, lopsided smile. "I find myself completely and utterly confounded," he told her huskily. A hand skimmed over her shin, fingers curling about her ankle, then he hitched her heel up against his shoulder. His lips pressed a kiss to the side of her ankle. "How did I survive years without you? You are mine and I am yours, Griff. We always have been."
She was transfixed, helpless to simply watch and marvel at the sensations coursing through her body, by the movement of his mouth against her skin. He moved slowly across the flesh of her leg, tantalisingly arduous each stroke of his lips. When he reached the inside of her knee, she flinched unconsciously at the ticklish sensation the caress provoked and his laugh was gruff, stifled when he sunk his teeth gently into her instead. He was determined to render her mindless with need, his lips moving ever so slowly down the expanse of her inner thigh, the destination blatantly obvious.
He strayed over the crease of her hips, his warm breath fanning over her skin seductively, and a muffled whimper left her throat. Halting, Oliver stared up at her from under his brows. The view of him between her thighs was entirely and possessively masculine, and a bolt of desire clenched her stomach. The back of her leg was braced against his shoulder, his lips poised above her sex while he covered her other thigh with his bicep. His hair was ruffled, his eyes indulgently seductive behind his spectacles, a sinful smile on his wide, wonderful lips.
She had never wanted him more.
She wanted all of him, everything that he had to offer her she would gladly accept, hungrily and desperately. Her hips shifted beneath him and he flattened his palm against her lower pelvis to quell her movements, pinning her to the mattress. She grumbled inarticulately, frustrated. "Ben, I swear to God," she muttered.
"Something the matter, Griff?"
She expelled a quivering breath and mustered an irked look to throw his way. "I am impatient. I must know what it is like between us now."
"So very impatient, clearly." There was a pleased smirk on his face though and his eyes dropped between her legs again. "I did wrong by you all those years ago by not worshipping your body the way it should have been. I intend to make right by it now, so you will have to wait just a while longer." He dipped his chin so suddenly she scarcely had time to draw breath before his tongue was upon her. It devastated her the way he probed briefly at the entrance of her folds, and he spread her thigh wider, opening her further, before leisurely sweeping his tongue from the very bottom of her sex to the top.
A sound she had never uttered before escaped her and her arms trembled slightly, the sight of him almost as detrimental to her undoing as the very act he was partaking in. With one hand flattened against her abdomen and imprisoning her, his chin tilted against her body, Oliver's eyes were closed as if enraptured, opening them to skewer her with a potently feral look as he fixed his lips about the hardened point at the juncture of her legs where she was most sensitive.
This was not the man who was her best friend; this was the man who was her lover and he was letting her know the difference as eloquently as he could.
He suckled and kissed that pinnacle of her body with torturous leisure, studying her reactions intently, bearing witness to each sharply drawn breath, every flutter of her stomach as her body clenched with sensation, the helpless sounds that escaped her mouth, and when he found something he liked, he repeated the manoeuvre again and again.
When he delved his tongue lower yet and laved at her core wantonly, her hips left the bed entirely until he thrust his hand flat atop her again, forcing her to stillness while he thrust into her, against her, relentlessly, repetitively.
The muscles of her thighs quaked against his face and shoulders and she whimpered. "Ben, please."
If he heard her, he made no indication, though she felt a scrape of a smile as his lips moved against her silken folds. Oliver raised, coming off her to press a kiss to her hip, then her navel, and his hand quickly replaced his mouth and tongue, a finger sliding exploratively into her sleek warmth. The play of his muscles flexing in his shoulders and arms was mesmerising as he caressed her, moved over her, trailing kisses and his tongue over the curve of her stomach, finding the swell of her breasts instead.
He claimed a nipple at the same time he pressed a finger deep into her entrance, the wet sounds of her body muted by her surprised groan. A shudder coursed through him that she felt against her as he pulsed his finger deeply into her body. "I am determined to make this good for you," Oliver murmured raggedly, momentarily lifting his mouth from her taut nipple, "but, my God, you feel too perfect I worry for my composure the moment I enter you." His breath teased the sensitive bud of her nipple as he spoke. As if for emphasis, he extracted his finger with excruciating slowness, ignoring her inarticulate grunt of protest at its absence, and then he advanced once more, this time entering her with two fingers. "You are so hot and wet. Are you aching for me, Griff?"
The muscles in her arms were suddenly overwrought and she collapsed against the mattress, moaning insensibly.
"So pretty," Oliver praised, his lips descending to the other breast where he exacted yet more torture with his tongue and mouth, gently grazing the edges of his teeth against her nipple back and forth. If this was how she was meant to end her life, then Amy assumed it was a decent manner in which to go, for surely nothing could be more soul-destroying and erotic than Oliver Hollingsworth's enraptured adoration of her body.
Apparently he meant to do true by his word and not leave an inch of her untouched by his mouth for he continued to traverse up her body, studiously devoting attention to the ridges of her collarbone and neck. She was breathless and panting softly by the time he tucked his arms under her shoulders and lowered his body atop hers.
His hardness astounded her, the heat from his skin suffusing into hers. Unthinkingly she tilted her hips, cradling him, and they both froze as his arousal slid against her, parting her folds to nestle along her centre. "It never felt like this before," Amy breathed.
He dropped his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, lips drawn together, utterly still. The way he pressed against her sleek flesh made her aware of how incredibly hard and large he was, the intimacy now filling her with intrigue and anticipation, and she succumbed to it willingly. If Oliver did not intend to move, then she would allow her own need to guide her actions, and she needed him more than she had ever needed anything in her life before.
Tipping her nose against his, she lifted her thighs on either side of his flanks and the shift caused his eyes to snap open. Amy felt exquisitely wicked with him nestled between her legs the way that he was and she rolled her hips curiously, her movement insecure and awkward.
He seethed. "Griff, don't-" But she was already mimicking the same rolling motion as before, spurred on by the delicious pulse that was building within her aching and hollow centre at being slicked and pressed so against him. Oliver froze, tense.
It was a powerful feeling knowing that she could immobilize the man who was but moments before rendering her close to climax with his sensuous lips and fingers. The knowledge gave her confidence and a seductiveness she hardly knew she possessed. Fuelled by instinct and her own desire alone, Amy raised her arms, her fingers trailing over the corded muscles of his back, his skin heated and twitching under her caress, and then she spanned over his taut buttocks, pulling his hips into hers.
He made a tormented noise above her.
Her own hips were making little rocking motions against his cock, a satiny, wet friction curling from each slide of him through her sex. "Will you give me what I need, Ben?" she said breathlessly, flexing her fingers tightly against his firm skin.
He shuddered. "Fuck." His lips crushed down against her own with a force that was almost bruising, opening her wide and plunging his tongue inside her. She felt that right down to her very core. He met the movement of her hips by pressing his down into hers, the feeling of his cock sliding against the juncture of her legs more pronounced. She emitted a soft, utterly needy moan. "Fuck."
His fingers entwined with the hair at the nape of her neck, wrapping the strands around his appendages and his wrists, and then with a gentle yank he tilted her head back, imprisoning her in a position that offered him her neck and the underside of her chin. He applied ravenous attention to this part of her anatomy, raking the edges of his teeth against a straining tendon even as the head of his cock nudged within her entrance.
That subtle entering made her feel impossibly stretched and she halted her senseless writhing, her breath locked within her chest. Oliver paused too, kissing his way gently to her cheek, then each corner of her lips, the tip of her nose. "Do you know," he murmured, dropping a languorous kiss to her lips, "how utterly perfect you feel?"
"Oliver-"
He shook his head and slid into her slowly, allowing her body time to accommodate him, allowing her the time to appreciate how exquisite it was to be filled by him. It had certainly not been like this before, she realised dazedly once more. She would have never let him go if it had.
"Do not call me that," he said through gritted teeth. His cock sank into her, his hips pressing deep until he was fully embedded inside her warmth. "I am only ever Ben to you."
Her heart swelled while the rest of her felt ready to explode. The melding of their bodies felt immeasurably poignant and emotional. It made her acutely aware of all the years that separated them and Amy thought he felt rather perfect, as if he were always meant to be right here with her, joined together, no matter the span of years that had and would pass.
In the end, it would always be Ben that claimed her body and heart.
"Always," she agreed. He released her hair briefly to tilt her lips to his for a sweetly passionate kiss before he shifted with the tiniest of movements within her.
"I wish to experiment," he admitted, brushing his mouth back and forth against hers, "to find out what would incite those delirious little sounds you make. For example, would they emerge if I used only the very tip of my cock and moved only a little, like this-" he withdrew almost entirely from her, leaving only the barest amount still clasped within her, and then he shifted back and forth in maddeningly tiny strokes. It earned him a pained glare at most and Oliver laughed huskily, dropping another kiss against her lips in apology. "So it is clear we favour this more then?" He pressed into her again, sliding deep and so very slowly that Amy arched against him in eagerness to take him quicker.
"You have time enough to torment me later," she reprimanded him, breathless and aching.
Once he had sheathed himself fully, he began to withdraw with the same arduous slowness that was serving to render her senseless with aching need. He seemed intent to apply an insubordinate amount of leisure to the task, as if savouring every silken warm caress of her body. "I do?"
His cock began its aching retreat once more and Amy was livid. She whimpered, rocking against him desperately. To curb her movement, Oliver released her hair and dragged a hand down her body to her hip, holding her firmly in place. "Yes, Ben, damn it."
Another slow stroke. Her fingers clenched into the skin of his backside emphatically. "But how do you know we will have enough time to continue this later?" he mused, tipping his head to the side to give the matter due consideration even as he extracted almost entirely from her once more.
Slowly.
"After all," Oliver continued, "I have not asked you to marry me."
And he rolled into her firmly, a proper solid thrust that made her toes curl and moved them up the mattress. "You are teasing me, I know," Amy said once she had caught her breath, "but if you do not desire marriage-"
"Good Lord, will you shut up?" He was moving in earnest now, setting a rhythmic pace that was making it difficult for her to continue with the thread of their conversation, with the thoughts that were beginning to scatter every which way as her body reacted vividly to each sure thrust. "I wanted to ask you to be my wife weeks ago, Griff. You had to be sure of my intentions, of my love for you that goes far beyond the bounds of friendship."
It was too much; he was so hopelessly sweet and romantic, this pragmatic man of hers. She wanted to tell him of all the things overflowing within her heart, of her utter devotion to everything that he was and who he was, but presently her body sought out more pleasurable pursuits and she vowed to show him instead until she could put them in words. Wrapping her thighs about his hips, drawing them high, her heels brushing against the back of his legs and drawing him into her, Amy clasped his face between her hands and drew him down for a poignant kiss.
He grunted with exertion and pleasure, rolling slightly harder into her and waiting briefly to feel her reaction to the forceful manoeuvre, but she only kissed him fervently, urging him for more... so much more.
Oliver reared back away from her, adjusting their position and bringing her thighs higher. His smile was brazen and unapologetic. "Need to see," he told her gruffly, dropping his gaze to where their bodies were joined. He groaned, the sound so full of agony and pleasure Amy could not help but be affected by it.
She crooned, her hands clasping against the muscles at the top of his arms that were straining to keep his weight from her, and then he began to thrust with such a primal sensuousness of his hips that her eyes were drawn to them.
It was the manner in which his abdominal muscles flexed, strained and rolled with each thorough movement that made her clench about him. It was exquisite and brutal, and she was sure she was close to imploding with her own climax as the edges crept unerringly closer, tingling over her skin in gradually increasing waves. She was in need of one push, of one subtle caress, and she would unravel about him.
Without thinking, she drew a hand between their bodies, pushing into her slick folds and finding that small, hardened node that wrought out the most delicious sensations, and began to touch herself even as he moved above and within her.
"Griff." It was a choking sound, a hoarse groan, and she found him enraptured by the places her fingers were stroking. Reminiscent of one of their first illicit encounters within a carriage, she found herself not only touching herself for her own release, but for his as well.
It was the memory of that day, of Oliver holding his straining cock in his fist, while he began to move almost frantically, uncontrollably, into her presently, that finally caused the tenuous strands of her climax to pull apart and explode. She convulsed around him, an unbridled shudder following a startled sob, as her body undulated through the excruciating pleasure. Every part of her flesh sung and writhed with it, her nails raking against the skin of his arms until they left half-crescent shadows into his arms.
His body settled over hers once more, his thrusts uncoordinated with their own intensity, and he kissed her. "Will you?" Oliver asked on a ragged hiss.
"What?" Her body was still overwrought with a climax that had torn her world asunder and he was making no sense, especially now as he still moved in search of his own release.
"I need to know if you will be my wife, Griff."
"Oh." She stroked up his arms, running her nails over his shoulders, neck and dragging them into the thick hair against his nape. She met his intense gaze boldly and a thrum of awakening need swept through her, made her sleek inner muscles clench about his cock as if she were primed for another climax so quickly after the first. "Of course I will be. I have always been yours-"
His mouth was upon hers before she could finish her sentence, a groan reverberating through his entire being as he thrust into her a few more times, his hips jerking to a gradual halt until he pressed deep into her, the warmth of his own release filling her.
She shuddered, raw pleasure consuming her at the sensation of him filling her. For awhile, she lay beneath him and simply marvelled at the way her body still thrummed and shivered with the remnants of ecstasy, a blissful lethargic haze coming over her limbs. Her heartbeat was loud and throbbing as her breasts crushed against his chest, his own breathing haggard and laboured for long moments afterwards while he remained deeply encased within her body. She was wicked indeed to find such a thing appealing, to adore the way he still lingered within her as if reluctant to separate even though long moments had passed.
He was kissing her with drowsy tenderness, his weight settled tentatively above her while his arms supported him slightly so as not to overwhelm her, but she found it comforting. She did not want to move, did not want to continue with the day as if something this momentous had not happened between them.
She wanted to spend the entirety of the day with him in bed, continue to explore his body and the ways he could torment her just to have him all over again.
A well of desire began to flow through her with all the raging demand of a hurricane and Amy realised that the years of not having Oliver between her thighs were about to make themselves very heard and very overwhelming.
She gasped as he continued to kiss her, pleased to realise that such a thing may not be as troublesome as it could be.
He was, she felt as she began to smile indulgently against his lips, becoming notably hard once more. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, drawing him closer, deeper, and let her body show him just how pleased she was with that.
For a change, Amy Griffiths did not mind keeping the world, and her responsibilities, waiting for a bit longer.
💌
A/N: Tis my birthday gift to you! A quicker update, though I must admit I pushed to get this out before the weekend.
It'll be the first birthday without a number of people present in my life, having lost five family members in less than a year including my mother. I wish I could just wrap everybody up in bubble wrap and keep them safely in boxes! Chances are I will be locating the nearest bottle of champagne and any form of creating I do shall definitely not be publishable, unfortunately.
But who knows? Until next week, keep safe!
P.S. If you are enjoying this story, and any others of mine, a vote or a comment is always appreciated. We are operating on the currency of love, and it always helps.