“Hmm?”
“Lord of Sin, if I remember correctly.”
“What does that make you?” he asked, nipping at the edge of her rib cage with blunt teeth before soothing the spot with his lips.
“Lady of Sin, obviously.”
“Obviously,” he agreed, a mirthful note in his voice as he traced the divot of her navel before exploring the thin white bands that ran vertically along each side of it. “And how would my lady like to sin this morning?”
Eliza waited until he lifted his gaze to meet hers. Ensured of his attention, she traced one hand along her generous curves down, down, down to dip between her thighs. She worked her sex with one, two fingers before pulling them free. And then, because she delighted in leaving him aroused and addled, she held those two elegant fingers before his lips.
His groan echoed in their quiet bedchamber as he swallowed them down to her palm.
“Shh,” she laughed. “They’ll know we’re awake.”
With a quick swirl of his tongue, he released her fingers and raised a brow, silencing her. “Do you want me to taste your honey, Eliza?”
“I didn’t think I was being subtle.”
Benedict caught his lip between his teeth, biting back a chuckle before he nipped her thigh in punishment. Luxuriating, he dragged that thigh up and over his shoulder, then nuzzled along it as he inched ever closer to her scent—still earthy and floral.
“Benedict,” she whined when he tarried, distracted by the sight of his fingers digging into her lush thigh. When she could take no more of his delays, she tangled her fingers in his hair and brought his lips to her center. “Be good for me.”
He released another groan, this one muffled by her damp flesh. And he was quite pleased to note that Eliza was already wet for him. Benedict preferred to draw out this act until Eliza’s toes were curling and her fingers threatened to rip his hair from the roots—sometimes thrice. But he hadn’t been exaggerating when he told her their time was limited. Already that morning, he’d heard the patter of tiny feet racing down the hallway while his wife slept.
With a silent vow to make up for the brevity with intensity, he set to his task. Grinding his erection into the bed beneath him, he worked Eliza quickly. Fortunately, his wife had awoken already damp with need. He focused on her pearl, sucking harder than he usually would so soon as he listened to her breathy moans for his cues.
He thrust into her cunny with two fingers, rocking hard and fast. She met him eagerly, her hips matching his rhythm.
Eliza’s whimpers increased in pitch and frequency. His beautiful violet was close now, rocking up to meet his mouth. He pressed a palm to her lower belly, sucking hard on her button and curling his fingers up in that way that never failed to draw a peak from her. Her back bowed off the bed as her hand smacked across her own mouth to quiet her cry of pleasure.
When Benedict glanced up from between her thighs, he found her dreamy gaze beyond her heaving bosom.
She tugged him up her supple frame by the hair, wrapping a leg around his waist as she crashed her lips onto his.
“I love you,” she whispered when they broke apart for air. “You’re always so good to me.”
“Eliza—”
Bang, bang, bang.
Benedict fell back onto the bed with a sigh, flopping an arm across his brow.
“Maybe if we’re very quiet, they’ll think we’re asleep,” Eliza breathed as she curled up into his side. Her breasts pressed into his ribcage, tormenting him thoughtlessly with their supple loveliness.
“Papa?” a small voice called through the carved rosewood door. “Mama?”
“Fucking hell,” Benedict muttered, offering his silent apologies to his prick.
“I’m sorry, my love.”
He clambered out of bed and reached for the trousers he’d abandoned the night before. A glance at his wife left him groaning again.
“Stay here, looking beautiful. Perhaps it is something simple.”
“An optimistic sentiment,” Eliza said, sitting up. The lavender bed coverings spilled around her waist, leaving those perfect breasts bare—torture, this was actual torture. Worse still, she rose and reached for her robe on the nearby chair, then slipped it over her shoulders. “I suspect my gardens will have to wait until the afternoon.”
Another round of banging overshadowed Benedict’s growl.
