She gasped but watched with rapt attention as he drew his slick hand along the line of his cock. Satisfied with his efforts, Benedict gathered her hand in his.
Indulging himself, he brought her palm to his lips for a quick kiss. And then he brought their joined hands down, arranging her fingers along his length. Studying her face, he adjusted her grip—her expression never changed from one of fascination. Together, they worked his length, moving as one in search of pleasure.
“Is it good?” she asked, tearing her eyes away from his prick.
“It’s perfect—” Eliza twisted her wrist experimentally, ripping a groan from his chest. “Too perfect if you wish for this to go any further.”
Her grip loosened, expression curious.
“How are you feeling? Do you still want to?—”
She cut him off with an eager nod.
Permission granted, Benedict drew a teasing hand down between her legs. His fingers danced across her pearl before he slipped one, then a second, inside her cunny. Eliza was tight as he worked her bud with his thumb to stretch her.
When her hips began to move against his hand, a private dance of their own making, he pulled his hand away. Those eager hips chased his fingers as they left.
“Too empty?” he asked, not teasing as he might once have been, but desperate to ensure she was ready for him, eager.
“Benedict?” she whined
“I know, one moment, my violet.” He dragged his damp hand along his length once more for good measure.
Then Benedict rose, one hand holding his cock in place, as the other helped ease her over the length. “If there is any discomfort, you must tell me.”
Eliza nodded, breathless, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as, together, they eased her onto his cock. With impossibly slow, shallow thrusts, Benedict worked his way inside, earning only sweet whimpers for his efforts—no sign of pain.
Far from it, Eliza clung to him, her arms thrown around his neck, pulling his lips onto hers.
When their mouths broke apart, panting, Benedict pressed his forehead to hers. “Alright?”
“Perfect,” Eliza whispered back with a nod.
Satisfied, Benedict allowed himself the luxury of a more forceful thrust.
“Ben—” she whispered, her voice failing her for the last syllables.
Nothing had ever felt as wonderful as Eliza’s body rocking against his own, claiming him for hers. He was made for her. And that notion had his heart clenching. Because if he truly had been made for someone like Eliza, then this could not possibly be sinful—and Eliza was right.
He was free now. To worship her in all her brilliance and loveliness. To dig his fingers a little too hard into the succulent skin of her thighs. To tease her breasts with his teeth. To claim her in every conceivable way as she claimed his cock with her sweet quim.
Her breath escaped in sharp, ragged pants; she was incapable of speech. The sounds of her desperation were somehow more tantalizing than any praise she could have conjured.
Benedict licked the sweat gathering along the underside of her breast for no other reason than he couldn’t imagine not doing so and earned a whimper.
His ballocks tightened at the sound, the taste of her, the slick slide of her tight cunt along his cock. Benedict was painfully aware that he would not last much longer. Determined to draw one more climax from her, Benedict slid his hand between them, trapping her pearl between the edges of two fingers and circling his palm along her belly.
Her pants raised an octave in pitch, fingernails scrambling at his shoulders.
“Are you close?” he gasped, no longer ashamed of the ragged begging.
“Uh-huh,” she nodded. Her mouth slotted against his, but neither of them was capable of something so complex as kissing, merely brushing against each other with every thrust.
He tightened the space between his fingers as he thrust up hard—brilliant Eliza crashed down on him at the same moment. Her cunny gripped his cock like a vice, trapping him inside her as if he would ever leave.
A groan ripped from Benedict’s chest as he released inside her. Pleasure overwhelmed every one of his senses, vision whiting out as he shuddered in Eliza’s arms.
He collapsed back onto the bedroll, too sated to remain upright. Eliza came with him, splayed across his chest, their ragged breaths evenly matched.
