He stared up at her for the space of a single blink before his laugh joined hers. “Appendage?”
“Well, I do not know what you call it.Male organseems too clinical.Hardnesstoo vague.”
“Male organ?” he teased, a smile settling on his lips. “Saycock, Eliza.”
She waited until she had his gaze. Once she was certain of his attention, she slid her hand inside his unbuttoned breeches and wrap it around his “cock.”
His back bowed as his eyes fluttered shut. Breath escaped him in shuddered pants as she slowly, curiously explored his cock.
“Knew it,” he muttered. “Knew you would be so sweet with me.”
“Are there… What other words do you like?”
Benedict straightened up, sliding a hand along the outside of her thigh as he pressed his chest to hers. “You may call it an appendage if you wish—anything so long as you keep doing that.” The sentence trailed off with a groan as she twisted her wrist.
“Tell me. What words do you use for me?”
“Goddess,” he supplied, using one hand to sweep her hair from her shoulder. Soft lips trailed down her neck to meet her shoulder. “My violet.”
“Benedict…”
“Breasts, I prefer breasts,” he said, drawing a teasing finger down the teardrop line of hers. “It’s the perfect word to describe such luscious, supple skin.” His free hand trailed teasingly down her spine. “Arse, bottom, my handhold,” he smiled through the last one, grasping a cheek.
And then his fingers abandoned her breast to palm down her belly and cup her mound. “Quim, cunny, cunt.” Benedict’s middle finger slid along the folds of her cunny. She practiced saying it in her head. He passed over the little nub at the crest, earning a gasp. “Button, notch, pearl, clit, mine.”
He urged her down onto her back. His nose trailed along her belly as she lowered. And then, without the slightest hint of warning, he spread her quim open with one hand, his lips closing around her pearl. Generously, he gave her one entire second to accustom herself to the overwhelming sensation before he slid a finger inside her channel.
Her hands fell to his hair as her back arched off the bedroll. “Benedict!”
Thoughts abandoned her as he worked her higher and harder than ever before. Already, her abdomen was tensing in anticipation.
Benedict rolled a shoulder, urging her leg over it. Even in her insensible state, she fought to remind herself to lay it along his side—to avoid the tender flesh of his back.
Strong fingers clasped her thigh, dimpling the flesh as he feasted.
The first time he’d done this, he’d been cocooned, muffled under layers of skirts. Now though, she could hear it all. Every indecent slurp, every lewd groan drew a whine from her.
“So good,” she panted. In response, Benedict sucked her button tighter, thrusting his fingers in harder. Dimly, she sensed him grinding his hips into the blanket beneath him.
One hand was still tangled in Benedict’s hair, but the other wandered to her nipple, tweaking it in a poor imitation of his touch. Her vision dimmed at the edges, the world narrowing to their sweat-dampened bodies.
“You’re so good to me,” she murmured.
The sound that escaped his chest was animalistic—the vibrations delivered to her clit. Her toes curled along his side, her hand fisting harder in his hair, twisting her nipple.
Sound and vision abandoned her, leaving only the physical sensations of Benedict’s worship. He feasted on her cunny, half feral even as her back bowed and she thrust into his face wantonly.
He nipped appreciatively against her nub, at the same time he gave her a second finger.
The last of her sense was devoted to crying his name as the tension snapped and she left this earth.
Chapter Fifty
She was so damnbeautiful and all his. More than he had ever dared to hope—and so damn responsive for him.
Benedict knew he was a degenerate, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to paint trails of her spend along her throat and breasts, dipping his hand between her thighs for more. Eliza’s breath escaped in tiny pants between her parted lips. She was awake, but not entirely aware. But when he drew along her taut nipples, she shuddered.
His cock, still weeping, was pressed against the graceful curve of her hip. Depraved, he swiped a little of his seed to add to his art, drawing delicate swirls across her flesh.
