by Golden Angel
Benedict would do nothing to harm her standing - all he had to do was be patient. Once they were married, or even engaged, they wouldn’t have to be quite so circumspect. Until then, he had to remember to behave.
At least in public.
******
Exhausted, footsore, and strangely happy, Christina made her way out the front door of Daphne’s house… and frowned. Her carriage was nowhere in sight, but Benedict was standing on the sidewalk beside his own conveyance. With the lights from the house still brightly lit, she could see the anticipatory expression on his face. Something about the way he was standing made her think of a small boy who’d just done something naughty but was sure he was going to get away with it.
Her eyes narrowed as she approached him, but her heart beat a little faster with excitement.
Even when she objected to his high-handed ways outside of the bedroom, her body often responded as if they were within. It was a dashed nuisance at times.
“Where is my carriage?” she asked, setting aside her manners since he was the only person within earshot other than a nearby footman, who perked up as he realized he was going to witness some contretemps firsthand.
“Apparently there was a mix-up in the mews and your carriage was sent home early by mistake,” Benedict said smoothly, his face so blankly serious it fairly screamed his involvement in the ‘mix-up’. “I happened to be nearby when Lady Marley was informed of the mistake and promptly offered my services to see you home.”
Christina could feel her back teeth grinding together. Perhaps he truly was innocent and just taking advantage of the situation… but if he truly hadn’t had a hand in the dismissal of her carriage, she would be willing to bet her house that Daphne had. She might confront her friend later, but she already knew Daphne would be full of excuses. The worst of it was she also knew Daphne truly was doing this in what she thought was Christina’s favor.
Or perhaps that wasn’t the worst of it… the worst of it was the feeling of happy satisfaction at this further proof of Benedict’s affections and the lengths to which he was willing to go to prove them.
He held out his hand to help her step up. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the disappointed footman, whose gossip wasn’t going to be as juicy as he’d hoped. Suppressing a resigned sigh, Christina grumpily took Benedict’s hand and allowed him to assist her into the coach.
Her feet hurt too much to do otherwise and her only other option was to wait for another suitable party to leave the ball and hope they would be willing to take her home. Since she didn’t doubt Benedict would stand out here with her through that, and perhaps even sabotage an attempt to secure a seat in another’s carriage, it would be a pointless venture which would only garner more gossip.
Sitting back against the comfortably plush seat, Christina decided this wasn’t her worst decision. While she was well situated financially, her carriage wasn’t this comfortable, and it did feel nice to settle back. Especially with her senses singing on high, thanks to Benedict’s presence… and yet, being alone with him allowed her to relax for what felt like the first time all night.
Settling in beside her, Benedict’s thigh pressed against hers as the footman closed the carriage door. He rapped sharply on the ceiling, and the carriage lurched forward in response.
Eyeing the closed curtains, Christina frowned. “Would you mind open- ah!” She shrieked as Benedict hauled her over his lap with a suddenness that left her breathless even as her body pulsed in excited response. “BENEDICT!”
Ignoring her enraged cry, he flipped up her skirts, opening the slit in her drawers to bare her bottom, and suddenly Christina was quite grateful for the drawn curtains keeping them private. She gasped, wriggling to get away as he palmed her bottom, her fatigue and sore feet quite forgotten as excitement sizzled through her.
“Did you enjoy your evening?” he asked evenly, his fingers tapping against her bottom, close enough to her sex to make her lips swell in anticipation. “I certainly hope so. You danced fourteen dances with fourteen different gentleman who weren’t me, and so you’ve earned fourteen swats on this pretty, little bottom.”
“Benedict! Put me down!” she whispered in mortification. He hadn’t even bothered to lower his voice! “Don’t you dare! Your coachman will hear!”
“Jacobs is paid very well to be discreet, don’t worry about that,” Benedict said, his fingers giving her one last playful caress before lifting away.
SMACK!
She pressed her hands over her mouth to muffle her shriek, which was more outraged embarrassment and shock that he was actually spanking her in a carriage than pain. Benedict rubbed his hand over the spot he’d just spanked, making her want to moan as a little shot of warmth spread through the area.
SMACK!
Rub.
SMACK!
Rub.
The swats were loud but not particularly painful, just enough to make her bottom tingle and sting, warming her flesh - especially when he rubbed the swatted spot immediately after. This was not a punishment spanking, this was a much more playful spanking, one meant to arouse… and it was working. Christina wriggled on his lap, doing her best to keep quiet as the heat level across her bottom and between her legs rose together.
There was something incredibly naughty, incredibly exciting, about being in a moving carriage, her bottom bared and turning pink under Benedict’s firm hand. Could the coachman hear her? Did he know what was happening inside the carriage? Could anyone else passing by the carriage hear the crisp smacks of flesh impacting flesh? Would they possibly guess what the cause was? For some reason, all those questions just excited her more as Benedict spanked her squirming bottom.
SMACK!
Rub.
SMACK!
Rub.
SMACK!
Rub.
She moaned in disappointment when he suddenly stopped swatting her and began to rub his palm briskly over her tingling bottom, realizing he’d reached fourteen and the spanking was over. Heat fizzed along her skin, making her feel far too warm, like she wanted to strip everything off. A sudden image flashed in her head of herself, completely naked inside the carriage, a slave to Benedict’s desires during a journey, and everything inside of her clenched as a wave of arousal swamped her. Such an idea was scandalously depraved and yet incredibly stimulating.
“Nice and pink,” she heard him murmur, before she found her lower body sliding off his lap and into a kneeling position on the floor. Although her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, it was still so dark she could barely see as Benedict unlaced the front of his breeches, pulling out his cock. It was like they were wrapped in their own little sensual cocoon.
Knowing what he wanted, she leaned forward to lick the tip of his cock, feeling her way in the dark to the rigid, throbbing erection. Her hand wrapped around his root, helping her to angle its stiff length towards her lips. The musky, male scent of his body filled her nose as she began to swirl her tongue around the blunt head, her mouth watering in anticipation.
Benedict was the man who’d introduced her to giving oral pleasure, and she loved it. Loved feeling him hot and throbbing in her palm, loved tasting the salt of his flesh, loved hearing him groan as she pleasured him, loved the way his hands slid into her hair, urgently pulling her down on him. The more of his cock she took in her mouth, the more she ached between her thighs, her body hungering for him in every way.
The smooth flesh of his cock glided over her tongue as she took him between her lips, pins scattering on the floor as he buried his fingers in her hair, disassembling her coiffure. Her nipples brushed against the carriage seat as she leaned forward farther, the stimulation making her moan around his cock. Thrusting his hips upward, Benedict filled her mouth, using his hands to press her down on his cock.
She released the base, allowing him to slide fully between her lips to the root, the blunt tip thrusting into her throat, feeling almost dizzy with the scandalous depravity of the act in such surrounds. No milk-and-w
ater miss would do this for him, no young virgin could please him like this… Christina gloried in his soft groans and muttered curses as her head bobbed over him, pleasuring him, giving to him. She sucked hard, her throat working as the head of his cock pressed into it, almost frantic to swallow him completely.
“Bloody hell!”
Arching, Benedict’s fingers dug into her scalp as he shuddered and thrust. His cock swelled, pressed deep into her throat, and then throbbed against her tongue as his cream spilled. She sucked and swallowed, greedily drinking him down, hazy with the satisfied glow which always came from pleasuring him even as her body whimpered for release.
His body relaxed back against the seat, the hold of his fingers gentling to a caress, and his cock began to shrink in her mouth. Christina’s tongue licked over him, still needy, still wanting.
When the carriage came to a halt, her head popped up in surprise… she’d forgotten where they were, had become so accustomed to the rocking gait of the carriage that she’d been moving with it without thinking.
“We’re here,” Benedict said, his voice low, almost smug, as long fingers pressed under her chin and lifted her face away from his softened cock.
Christina nearly screamed with the sexual frustration winding about her body.
Chapter 7
Before the carriage door opened and Christina saw where they were, Benedict thought she might have been close to slapping him. She was practically quivering with need, her hot mouth had still been suckling his cock despite its deflating state. When she realized he’d brought her to his house on Jermyn Street - rather than her London home on Brooke - she’d practically gone limp with relief.
And then she’d blushed furiously when she took a surreptitious peek up at Jacobs, still in his perch at the front of the carriage. The good man remained stone faced as he shook the reins to get the horses moving again, headed towards the mews behind the house.
“Come, love,” Benedict whispered in her ear, pulling her in close with one arm. “I believe you deserve a reward for taking your punishment so well, don’t you?”
Of course, it hadn’t been a true punishment, but they both enjoyed the game. Benedict might not like watching her dance with other men who obviously desired her, but he wasn’t going to actually punish her for doing so either. She deserved to feel desirable, and she deserved to dance every dance. After tonight, however, he was seriously considering mustering the troops so she at least wasn’t dancing every dance with a competitor; he’d much rather have her dancing with his friends and family. Gentlemen who were safe. Who wouldn’t exercise his self-control so badly.
“I feel like I shouldn’t reward you for whisking me away without my permission, and yet I think if you had actually brought me home, I might have exploded,” she murmured, half to her herself as Benedict escorted her up the stairs and into the entryway.
He chuckled. It had been rather high handed of him, but Lady Daphne had provided the excuse to give them some privacy and he’d taken full advantage of it. She likely had just meant him to take Christina to Brooke Street, but Benedict was feeling far too primitive, too needful of staking his claim on Christina after an evening of not being able to rightfully call her his in any socially meaningful way. As soon as he’d realized Christina could be his for the evening, he’d sent a messenger to his house, ensuring the servants would ready the bedchamber and then play least-in-sight by the time they arrived.
“Perhaps you should just lay your trust in me and allow me to whisk you away whenever I want,” he said, following her into the house. Grasping her hips, he pulled her against him, his front pressed to her back, his hot breath wafting over the sensitive nape of her neck. A fine tremble shivered through her body as she arched slightly, pressing her bottom against his groin where his cock was already beginning to swell again. “I promise to make it pleasurable.”
“Absolutely not,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction as he pressed his lips to her neck, his tongue licking against the sensitive skin. Considering how aroused she already was, it was no wonder she was distracted from their actual conversation.
“You could just marry me and then I wouldn’t have to whisk you away,” he murmured, tracing the delicate shell of her ear with his lips, his hands moving up to cup her breasts, squeezing the soft flesh and making her gasp with need. “Other than up to our bedroom every night.”
“No.” She shook her head even as her bottom pressed more fully against his groin, squirming against him, her hands covering the backs of his as he kneaded her breasts. The movements she made against him were rhythmic, her body responding as if he was already inside of her.
Pinching her nipples harshly as punishment for her rejection - which elicited a pained cry as she thrust her breasts forward, begging for more - Benedict quickly released her and spun her around as he bent his knees enough to get his shoulder level with her middle. With one swift movement, he hoisted her over his shoulder, bottom high in the air and began carrying her towards the steps as she burst into giggles.
“Benedict!”
THWAP!
His hand swatting her bottom through her skirts made a muffled sound and he was fairly certain she barely felt it, no matter how sensitive her ass already was from the spanking he’d given her in the carriage. Carrying her up the stairs, he headed for the bedroom, trying to ignore the way her hands were pulling up his coat so she could sensually caress his lower back, pulling his shirt from his breeches as she did so.
“I should whisk you away to Gretna Green,” he grumbled, kicking open the door to the bedroom. As he’d instructed, the candelabra by his bedside was fully lit, so they weren’t in total darkness. Benedict grinned. He had a few new items in his nightstand which he was eager to torment his lover with.
“Gretna Green or here, I still have to say yes,” Christina reminded him, but her words were almost teasing.
“I could lock you up and spank you every day until you agree to say yes,” he retorted, pulling her forward so she slid down his front to her feet, her breasts pressing against his chest, her flushed face only inches from his. Her eyes glittered with arousal and need, her tongue flicking out to lick her lower lip in anticipation.
“That wouldn’t work, I would enjoy it too much,” she whispered sultrily, a smile curving her lips before she went up on her toes to press her mouth to his.
Kissing her back, Benedict began working on her dress, undoing the row of buttons down the back, and pulling away just enough to let the fabric fall to the floor. She kissed him back hungrily, pressing her body against him, squirming as his hand cupped her bottom through her drawers. Moving his mouth down her neck, he undid the laces of her corset, leaving her clinging to him as he nipped and sucked at her soft flesh. Her soft moans and panting urged him onward, her body moving against his with urgency, rousing his own passions all over again, his cock slowly lifting in response to her ardent desire.
Stripping her down to just her stockings and garters, Benedict let his hands roam as he moved her back towards the bed, step by step. As they moved, she pushed his jacket from his shoulders, undid his waistcoat, and was working on his cravat by the time they reached the bed.
Ending the kiss, Benedict placed his hands over hers, taking the cravat from her grasp.
“Close your eyes, love,” he said, lifting the cravat over them. A delighted smile curved her lips, her head tilting back as if for a kiss as he tied the cravat around her head. The disarray of her hair was adorably seductive, the soft curves of her naked body a constant temptation which he fought against.
******
Darkness behind the blindfold, as it had been in the carriage, was surprisingly sensual. Now that Benedict had use of his sight and she did not, it was even more so. She cried out with surprise as his lips suddenly closed over a turgid nipple, sending a hot flash of pleasure through her. Between her legs her need throbbed so powerfully, her knees buckled, and Benedict caught her, holding her up.
He moved his mouth bac
k and forth, suckling each tender bud, driving her wild as she clung to his broad shoulders. The rough rasp of his tongue, the sharp nips of his teeth, somehow felt so much more intense, so much sharper, when she couldn’t see… when she could only feel. His fingers dug into the soft, tender flesh of her bottom, bending her back so her breasts were thrust up towards him, leaving her panting with need as the growing hardness of his cock pressed against her mound. Between her legs she was wet, swollen, and wanton, the ache inside of her an ever-growing, gnawing hunger to be filled.
“Please…” she gasped out the word, rubbing herself against him, almost in a frenzy. “Please, Benedict… more…”
Suddenly lifted and tossed onto the bed, she let out a little shriek of fear just before she bounced onto the mattress. A swift tug on her ankle pulled her down the bed, her tender bottom rasping over the covers, and she fell back bonelessly, her breasts heaving, legs spread. Benedict’s hand slid up her leg, from her ankle to her thigh, over the silk of her stockings to the soft, plump flesh just below the needy lips of her pussy.
“Arms above your head, love, wrists together.”
Christina trembled, but did as he ordered. Pleasure would come faster if she didn’t fight his commands. His hand on her thigh disappeared and she whimpered.
Soft cloth wrapped around her wrists as her arms were pulled upwards, tied in place above her head, leaving her helpless to his touch. Christina moaned as he returned his attention to her breasts, his hands roughly massaging the swollen mounds, plucking at her nipples, his hot mouth searing kisses across her skin.
“Benedict! More!” Half-order, half-plea. Christina was on fire from the inside out, her breasts heavy from being handled, her pussy aching to be. She arched, her legs spreading, inviting him to settle between her thighs.
His low chuckle was not reassuring.
