by Riley Pine
“Don’t,” I say, swiping the brush across his jaw. “Just for today. Please. Don’t talk about what we can’t have. Instead, let us enjoy what we can.”
He nods and reaches for my breast, cupping it gently in his palm. He gives my peaked nipple a soft pinch, and I writhe against his hard cock.
“Benedict.”
I feel him flex against me.
“It’s not a sin,” he growls, squeezing his eyes shut.
I drop the brush on the palette, then lean over and kiss him, the paint on his jaw smearing against mine.
“You’re still just a man, Benedict. This is your choice. I won’t take anything you are not willing to give.”
His hand slides along my torso, skimming over my belly, and resting between my legs. He stills for several seconds, time lengthening between us. And then, there it is, the tiniest of movements—his thumb brushing my clit—but it’s enough to make me cry out.
“I—” he says, his deep voice hoarse with need. “I want to know what I’m missing.”
Then he slips a finger inside me, and I’m certain that I see stars.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Benedict
I’VE FOUND HEAVEN on earth. It is tight, wet and perfect. My index finger has been inside Evangeline’s pussy for only a few seconds, but it’s as if I’ve lived five hundred lifetimes in the span of each one. When I start to withdraw, my fingertip slides over a small ridge near her entrance.
“Oh God!” Her inner muscles clamp as her neck arches. Her skin is so delicate that her veins are visible, her pulse rapid-fire fast.
Ah, the infamous G-spot. So it does exist.
My answering groan tears the fabric of my soul. I’m not meant to touch. But now that I am here, it feels holy to give her the pleasure she craves. I crook my finger and smile as her lids flutter.
“Benedict,” she murmurs, hips undulating. “My God, Benedict.”
“Your mouth was made for one thing,” I growl, flipping her and bending over her.
“What’s that?” She squeaks on the last word as I stroke her hidden secret again.
“Saying my name.” I slip in another finger and still another.
“Yes, feels so good,” she purrs, taking hold of my forearm, urging me to drill deeper. “Fill me. Fill me up.”
“But this is too much.” I pause and try to hold on to a shred of sanity. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Our gazes lock and her pupils are dilated so much that I can see my own reflection in their onyx depths. “This is incredible.”
“You’re so tight.” The walls of her tunnel are like slick satin. “I had no idea it would be this tight.”
I brush her G-spot again and hold it as she mewls.
“Yes, there, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop, Benedict.” Her pussy clamps my fingers, milking my hand with her orgasm, and I am humbled to my bones by this unexpected gift.
I’ve given a woman the gift of pleasure, and not just any woman, but one who is conquering my mind, body and soul. I have overcome my years of hard-earned repression and done the forbidden, and what’s more? I’ve fucking loved every second of it.
As I move to withdraw, she frowns. “Don’t go.”
I have heard of this, a woman’s ability to keep attaining pleasure. “You want to come again?”
She hums a sexy laugh. “All day if I can. You’re quite talented, Highness. Your fingers are very...nimble.”
“Must be all those years I spent kneading bread.”
But her laughter ceases at my attempted joke. Instead, she looks hesitant.
“What is it?” I murmur. “Don’t hide. You know you can tell me anything.”
“The other night, you asked me to touch myself and tell you my fantasy. I didn’t know until I cried out your name that you had somehow infiltrated my dreams. And now that I trust you—now that I know you’d never do anything to hurt me—I want something more.”
My eyes widen. “I am part of your fantasy?” I ask.
She nods. “I’ve never asked this of anyone, but...” She trails off, and I nod, offering her encouragement to continue. “I...I wonder if you’d be willing to try something.” She pushes an errant lock of hair off her cheek and nibbles her plump lower lip. “Something that I have never done before with any man.”
“What?” I rasp, my throat threatening to clamp shut.
“I want to feel your whole hand inside me.”
I freeze. “I...I am not sure that I understand.”
Her cheeks are the color of flame. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just that I feel so connected to you, and I’ve always had this fantasy but have never trusted anyone enough to give it to me.”
“You truly want this?”
She gives a hesitant nod. “As you can see, I am not...loose. My vagina is incredibly tight, so the pressure feels amazing. Most women can’t get off from penis-to-vagina sex.”
I nod. “Yes, I’ve read about this. They need clitoral stimulation.”
“Exactly. And while I enjoy such stimulation, I can come without it...if my partner is able and willing. I realized as a younger girl... Oh my gosh, I can’t believe that I am telling you this...” She trails off.
“Evangeline, nothing you say could ever shock me. Your body is made to feel pleasure, to have desires. You can trust me.”
She stares at me as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “I know I can. At first I thought it was because you were an old soul, but now I wonder if it’s due to something deeper.” She covers her face with her hands. “I feel—oh God, don’t laugh—but I feel as if our souls recognize each other.”
I let out a long, shaky breath. “You are saying we are soul mates?” With a few words, she has moved the rock long crushing my heart. At last, real heat pumps through my cold veins, returning me to life. I’ve become a flesh-and-blood man...with a man’s needs.
“You want me to put my entire hand in your pussy, to fist you.” My thumb twitches at the idea of giving her such depraved pleasure.
She peers through her fingers. “I have heard other girls at my...work...say it can bring about the most intense pleasure. But it is not something to do with a paying client. The trust factor is huge. You must open yourself up to another in the most intimate way possible.”
I remind myself that, while I am at a precipice, taking the leap will still leave my own virtue intact. It is a selfish rationalization, but it is one that comforts me nonetheless.
“I will do what you ask,” I say after a considered pause. “Except I don’t have lube. As wet as you are, I would be required to exert a great deal of pressure and couldn’t bear the thought of giving you any pain.”
“A little pain can be a pleasure.” Dark lust flashes in her eyes. “But I appreciate your consideration. I happen to have a bottle of lube with me in my red suitcase there on the chair across the room.”
I arch a brow. “You travel with lube?”
She arches one right back. “This is my job, Benedict,” she reminds me, a truth I’ve tried to bury. “And part of the Madam’s requirements is that we are prepared with whatever a client might need. I travel with a great deal of lube, and a host of flavors: pineapple, raspberry or cinnamon.” She dips her head, looking up at me through hooded lids. “I’ve also been told this type of...creativity...can also serve as a diversion, interesting a man in something more playful than...” She trails off, then sets her gaze on me directly. “You aren’t like the others would be, Benedict. I am sure of it. I trust you...with everything.”
I rise and cross the room, open the suitcase and select a small unscented vial that promises warming sensations and guarantees to delight. I slather my entire hand until it’s well coated. It seems so big, and she is so tight. Three fingers felt like I’d packed her full. But I take my place next to her on the bed aga
in. If she trusts me, then I will trust what she desires.
“Thank you,” she says in a quiet voice. “For not judging me. I felt a little silly admitting this fantasy to you. But this isn’t something I wanted to ever share with a client, only a man I knew would treat me with care, who’d fill me with a loving touch.”
“Never apologize for wanting what you want.” There is a small wet sound as I slide my fingers in. “I’ve read about this.”
“Of course you have.” She offers a sweet, teasing smile. But as I fill her, her hands grip the sheets.
“The word itself sounds fast and hard, but in reality it requires patience and a great deal of arousal,” I say.
Her mouth forms a perfect O. “We have both of those factors on our side.”
“Relax,” I tell her. “You are in charge of the situation.” I press my thumb beneath my four fingers to make my hand as narrow as possible. “If you need me to stop at any time, for any reason, I want you to tell me.”
“Yes. Yes.” Her thighs tremble.
I go slow, and the knuckles are the trickiest part. She takes deep, measured breaths, urging me on, then with a slight rotation of my wrist over her pubic bone, I’m all the way inside, my hand naturally forming a fist. Her muscular walls quiver around me.
“How do you feel?” I whisper.
“Vulnerable,” she breathes. “Impossibly full. Stretched to my limits. I’m close. So close, Benedict.”
With my free hand, I lick my fingers and circle her clit. It takes the barest whiff of pressure, and she reacts with tidal force, bearing down on my enclosed hand with an orgasm that threatens to cut off my circulation. I continue to worship her clit, letting her ride through two, then three orgasms.
They can probably hear us from the guard towers to the servants’ quarters, but nothing, including the Big Man himself, could make me stop.
“Benedict,” she squeaks, toes curling, as she grabs a handful of hair. “I never knew. I never knew it could be like this. So full. So good.”
My heart threatens to burst. “Neither did I, angel. Neither did I.”
Evangeline
We lie there in silence, me coming down from a high I never thought possible, and Benedict beside me, his jaw tight and body anything but relaxed.
Both of us are staring at the ceiling when I ask, “Benedict?”
“Angel,” he responds, and I smile at his use of my nickname. At least what just happened hasn’t changed that.
“Please tell me you are not quietly chastising yourself. If I’ve made you feel guilty in any way, I won’t be able to forgive myself.”
He props himself up on an elbow and faces me, the hand that gave me pleasure like I’ve never known now tracing lazy circles around my belly button.
He kisses my temple. “Guilt?” he whispers. “Surprisingly, no. I’ve been trying to figure out how to put a voice to what I have decided. More so, I hope it will not be too much to ask of you.”
I take his wrist and guide his hand from my torso to my breast. Still, after what I’ve just asked of him, this elicits from him a ragged moan.
“Let me do something for you,” I say. “Trust me like I trust you.”
He rubs a thumb over my raised peak, and I gasp.
“I know where this road will lead me,” he says. “What awaits me at the end of this path.”
I swallow. “Your vows,” I say, realizing that a tiny part of me had the nerve to hope that whatever he is going to ask of me might involve some sort of future for us beyond the end of our month together.
“Yes. My vows. My vows are my future—but you said something before that hit me.” My brows rise, and he continues. “Right now?” He rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and I let out a soft moan. “Right now I am just a man.”
I prop myself up so we are eye to eye. “What are you saying, Benedict? Do you want to...?”
“God can have my virtue,” he says. “But you, Evangeline, you can have everything else.”
It is not the answer I was hoping for, but it’s close enough. I slide closer to him and let my fingers tickle the flesh above his pants.
“May I have this patch of skin?” I ask, itching to follow the trail of dark hair to where it leads.
“You may,” he says with a grin, and I dare to keep traveling south, beneath the seam of his cotton pants—where there is no undergarment for me to tease any further.
He’s right there, within my reach. All I have to do is stretch my pinkie, and then I feel it—the warm, slick precum on his tip.
Benedict lets loose a growl.
“This, my prince. Is this mine? Does this fall under everything else?”
“Yes,” he says through gritted teeth, and I know that today will be a day for many firsts.
And that’s all it takes for me to slide my hand the rest of the way, to wrap my hand around his thick, hard length and stroke him from root to tip.
“Evangeline!” He bucks against my touch, his reaction making my pulse quicken.
I climb over him, tugging his pants to his ankles and then off completely.
I gaze upon his naked form, speechless for a few erratic beats of my heart.
“What is it?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“You’re...quite the specimen,” I say, feeling a rush of heat from my core to my cheeks. “To think that this will be hidden away forever...and that I am the only one who will have seen it? Why me?”
The corner of his mouth curls into a grin that lights a fire within me.
“Because you are the most exquisite soul I’ve ever known.”
My breath catches. “You don’t know my soul, Benedict. You couldn’t possibly. This—” I motion between us “—this is fantasy. This is two strangers giving each other what they need.” I have to say this because to believe otherwise is too much. To believe otherwise is to want what I could never have.
He grips his cock, tilting it toward me so his wet tip slides against my clit.
I hiss, exhaling in a sharp breath. “Benedict!” He does it again, and I shudder.
“You said our souls recognize each other,” he says. “Then believe that it’s more than recognition—that I know yours. That I know you.” He caresses my cheek. “This is not fantasy,” he says. “It is me giving you everything I possibly can before it is no longer mine to give.”
I drop over him, sliding along his length until that naughty tip nudges me again. He clamps his jaw shut, groaning as I writhe. This man—he may be preserving his virtue, but he will drive us both mad in the process.
He slips two fingers inside me, and I sink down to his knuckles, pretending it’s his cock filling me instead. I imagine taking him so deep, forgetting where I end and he begins.
I manage to maneuver my body while he vibrates within my walls, so that now his cock is in front of me, and I lick my lips before sucking him down to the base.
“Fuck!” he cries out as I grip him, my hand trailing my mouth as I slide up his long, slick length. Again and again I do this, and he answers by adding a third finger, by fucking me the only way I think he can until he slides his hand free and replaces it with his mouth.
His tongue is warm, lapping between my folds, and I am a lit fuse about to explode.
I cup his balls and squeeze, all the while bucking against him as his tongue swirls around my throbbing clit.
I said I didn’t need this to come. But I never said it couldn’t take me to the edge of the universe. That he couldn’t take me there. Because he can, as will I for him.
“Fuck!” he cries again as I start to tip over the edge. “God. Evangeline.” But he loses his words completely, exploding inside me, and I drink him in. Every last drop. Because this is the only way we will ever be as one, and I want to savor the taste of him, the intimacy, the knowledge that while his seed will never grow ins
ide another, I am nourished by it nonetheless.
I collapse, and he rises to his knees.
“You’re not finished,” he says.
I shake my head.
“Good. Because I need to taste the nectar of the gods one more time.”
“Gods?” I ask, raising a brow. “Why, Benedict, I believe that’s blasphemy.”
He pushes my knees apart and gives me a wicked grin.
“Then forgive me, Father, for I’m about to make this angel take your name in vain.”
He drops between my legs, and though I do cry out for God in heaven, I do not think it is in vain. Instead, it is a prayer...or maybe a plea.
Let this man remain just a man. Let him have all that he’s denied himself. Let him find happiness where he wishes to seek it and not where he’s been told to find it.
And then I add on one selfish request.
Let him be mine.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Benedict
FOR THE NEXT WEEK, I barely make it out of bed, except to take quick showers. I enjoy all manner of delights off Evangeline’s delectable body: greenhouse strawberries covered in lashings of whipped cream, a drizzle of wild clover honey, dark sea salt chocolate. Once I’ve devoured my fill, I feast on her instead. The sweetness between her legs puts even the most gourmet Belgian chocolatiers to shame.
This morning we are still in bed even though the sun is nearly at the sky’s apex. Her small foot nestles between my hands, and I give her a massage with almond and cherry scented oils. Another of my angel’s secret delights? Getting her feet rubbed.
And here’s one of mine—I love giving her exactly what she loves.
I’m riding a dopamine high, satiated physically, and even more important, experiencing true intimacy with a woman for the first time in my life.
“What are you looking at, Highness?” she asks, coyly circling one of her rosy nipples. The unselfconsciously sexy action sends a shock wave through my core.
“Why, I’m looking at you, angel.”
