Benedict's Commands

by Golden Angel

  “OH!” Her entire body spasmed as he leaned over to plant a kiss on her pussy, his tongue flicking out to lick her swollen clit. She felt tears gather at the corner of her eyes as her body responded with intense pleasure to the silken contact. “Benedict, please!”

  “Good girl,” he said, crooning the words as his hands slid up her inner thighs to her labia, parting the lips so she could feel the cool air of the room wafting over her sensitive flesh. “If you’d called me Dearborn again, I would have had to continue torturing you.”

  She whimpered as his thumb brushed through her center, gliding over her clit before moving down to her hole, where he inserted the thick digit. It was too short to give her the sensations she craved, teasing her without providing satisfaction, and her grip on the headboard tightened as she fought against the impulse to reach down and touch herself.

  “Please, Benedict, stop teasing me!” she begged, writhing for him as he pumped his thumb in and out of her. “You just said you wouldn’t continue torturing me!”

  “Very well,” he said, sliding his thumb away and positioning himself over her. His dark eyes were hot with need, devouring the sight of her as his cock lined up with her pussy, nudging the place his thumb had just occupied. She arched, trying to grind down on that teasing tip, her insides fluttering with the need to be filled. Benedict leaned over her, his hands braced on either side of her, and she could smell the musky sweet scent of her arousal like perfume in the air.

  “Tell me you missed me, love.”

  “I missed you.”

  The ache in her voice was exceeded only by the ache in her body, the need arching through her… and then his hips thrust forward, his cock splitting her open, and Christina cried out as he filled the emptiness inside of her. He felt so large, so hot, stretching her roughly after weeks of abstinence, and it felt so very, very good.

  So right.

  When his hands grasped her wrists, pinning them down on either side of her head, she realized she’d been reaching up to touch him. She wanted to so badly, but at the same time, having him hold her in place, keeping her under his control, caused a hot surge of ecstasy to thrum through her. Already she’d been teetering on the edge of orgasm, now it felt like she was pierced with a keen agony that made her want to scream with her unfulfilled need.

  Then Benedict began to move.

  He thrust hard. Fast.

  “Please! Please, Benedict, I need to cum!”

  His voice was a growl as he responded. “Cum, love, cum for me.”

  Now Christina did scream as her long-awaited orgasm rolled through her, making her writhe beneath his hard body, her inner muscles pulsing with the rhythm of his thrusts. Her nipples rubbed against his chest as he moved, abraded by his wiry body hair, her legs moving to clasp him to her as she shuddered with the sweet pleasure. He felt so good atop her, moving so forcefully inside of her, filling her. The heat burned through her body, sending wave after wave of delicious pleasure coursing through her, satisfying the need he’d so skillfully induced.

  Benedict lowered his mouth to hers, taking her lips with a slow, drugging kiss as he reduced the rate of his thrusts, slowing his rhythm to take his time. She moaned as she shuddered around him, her body feeling especially sensitive as her climax settled, leaving her feeling mostly satiated… although still aroused as Benedict moved inside her, kissing her like he wanted to drink her. The hands on her wrists gentled and slid away, the pace of their movements becoming more tender as he caressed her breasts and allowed her to reach up and entwine her fingers in his hair.

  It was a moment of almost pure sweetness, which pierced straight to her heart, and Christina found herself wishing it could be like this always. As soon as she realized what she was thinking, she began to push at him, her legs dropping away to spread wide open again rather than trying to cling to him.

  She broke away from the kiss.

  “Do not tell me you’ve lost your energy, my lord,” she said coquettishly, trying to hide her disquiet behind flirtation, not wanting him to see how his love-making was affecting her. With the needy edge of pleasure receding, she was coming back to her senses.

  While she did not want him to stop, while she wanted to ensure he found his satisfaction as well, she was also reminded of the need to guard her heart. Perhaps he’d become attached to her as well, but she should not read more into his affection and lust than was there.

  She would take tonight, and her future self could make of it what she would… but she did not want to pretend tonight was anything other than lust, passion, and the long absence of each other’s company. She didn’t even know whether Benedict had taken another woman to bed during their time apart… and she shoved the thought away because it hurt to think of.

  Pasting a smile on her face, she arched underneath him, her fingers teasing the hair at the base of his neck where she knew he was particularly sensitive. “Has your stamina deserted you, that you move so slowly?”

  “Vixen,” Benedict snarled at her.

  Sliding from her body, he flipped her over so quickly it took her breath away, setting her on hands and knees before him. Christina loved the way he always handled her so easily, as if she weighed nothing more than a feather, a doll for him to position and arrange. She cried out again as he thrust into her from behind, hard and fast.

  If she’d thought a new position, a rougher kind of loving, would dispel the sense of growing intimacy between them, she’d been wrong. He was moving inside of her, filling her, as he leaned over her, cupping her breasts with his hands and kneading them, and every touch set her skin afire. It did not matter that she could no longer see his expression, that he no longer touched her so tenderly, his presence overwhelmed her and even when he pinched her nipples harshly, she could practically feel his pleasure and it affected her deeply.

  No, she could no longer touch him, wrap her arms around him… but she still wanted to.

  No, he was not kissing her mouth, but his lips still fell on the nape of her neck, the back of her shoulders, and down her back as he took her from behind.

  No, his movements were no longer as slow or as tender… but he still filled her, still touched her like he couldn’t get enough of her, still pressed himself against her as if he couldn’t bear to have space between them.

  And she pressed back against him, loving the feel of him surrounding her, filling her, wringing both pain and pleasure from her body. Already his hard thrusts were pushing her towards another orgasm, the pain and pleasure of his hands on her breasts and nipples adding to her growing ardor. Christina was helpless beneath him, writhing on her hands and knees as growing ecstasy wreathed its way around her.

  ******

  Silken heat scalded Benedict as he slammed against Christina’s bottom, the hot flesh of her chastised cheeks heating his belly. She was so supple and tight, her soft cries urging him onwards as he rutted her. This had always been a favorite position of hers - and of his - as it allowed him to molest her unchallenged without actually binding her.

  Twisting her nipples roughly, he groaned as her sheath tightened around him in response, massaging his aching length. Already it felt like his balls were fit to burst, but he was holding back his own climax from sheer willpower as he worked her towards her second one. She was already close. He could tell by the quivering in her body, the rosy flush of her skin, the tightening of her inner muscles, and the change in her breath. Benedict leaned back slightly, moving one hand from her breast to the top of her mound, grinning as she let out a high cry as his fingers slid to her creamy slit and pressed against the swollen bud nestled there.

  “Again,” he commanded. “Cum for me again.”

  Christina’s upper body crumbled beneath the passionate onslaught, and she began to sob out her ecstasy as Benedict’s fingers circled and massaged the tiny, engorged nub of her clitoris. Her pussy spasmed around him, sucking at his cock, and he let out his own shout of pleasure as he pulled free of her body and released his seed over her back.
>
  The white liquid spattered against the pale pink of her skin and the darker pink of her bottom, a satisfying sight.

  One day - one day soon - he would not have to use French letters or pull free of the clasp of her body in his release. He supposed he could have begun tonight… but as he hadn’t yet spoken to Christina of his intentions, such an act would have been wrong. Groaning, he squeezed his rod with his hand, the last of his seed spurting onto her buttocks as he imagined what it would be like to feel her pussy milking his cock without any barrier.

  “Oh…” Christina’s soft little sight of contentment made his heart feel light as she slid down onto her stomach, letting him take care of the mess.

  Benedict had always insisted on tending to her, allowing her to wallow in the post-coital bliss. For himself, he found caring for his partners extended his feelings of satisfaction rather than interrupting them. He enjoyed wetting a cloth and tending to the aftereffects of their joining, although he did so much more tenderly and lovingly with Christina than he had with any other. With Christina he interspersed strokes of the damp cloth with kisses on her bare skin and small, intimate caresses because he couldn’t bear to not touch her.

  She was so beautiful, so silky soft… and all his.

  “Are you going to attempt to spurn me again now?” he asked as he set the cloth to the side. The skin of her back glistened damply in the candlelight before she turned over to face him. The softness of her breasts and belly, the suppleness of her loose limbs, called to him, and Benedict lay himself out beside her, facing her, so he could touch all that delicious softness.

  Christina laughed ruefully. “Perhaps I should,” she responded, her voice a sultry murmur. “I did not realize it would engender such a passionate response.”

  “If you do so and then disappear for weeks again, I shall hunt you down and carry you off,” he said in warning - and was not entirely joking. “You’ll be my princess in a locked room, bound to my bed, and unable to ever escape.”

  She laughed again, but there was something in her expression - almost like yearning - which Benedict did not understand. Leaning forward, she kissed him gently on the lips, sighing against his mouth as his hand caressed her hip, pulling her to him. It did not matter that he was no longer aroused, he just wished for her body nestled against his, and since she did not even attempt to squirm away it seemed she felt the same.

  Her fingers trailed through his chest hair as she pulled her lips away from the kiss, tugging very lightly on the strands in a pleasant manner that would have stirred his arousal if he wasn’t already so happily sated.

  “And when you tire of me?” she asked, teasingly, although there was an edge to her words. “Would I be set free?”

  “No, for I would never tire of you,” he said, leaning forward for a kiss - and halting when he saw her rolling her eyes. Benedict frowned. They were only teasing, but still, he didn’t like to see such a response. Did she think he was mouthing mere platitudes? Or - worse - was she scornful of such an ardent declaration on his part? “Are you rolling your eyes at me? Do you not believe me?” Silently he also wondered - do you not want me to keep you forever?

  “I believe men such as yourself say many wonderfully romantic things to appease their lady friends,” Christina said. The slight edge to her voice was still there, and now - when he really looked at her - he could see that her smile did not quite reach her eyes.

  Something was wrong.

  Even though she was snuggled in his arms, even though she hadn’t sent him running from her rooms, she was holding herself back from him in some manner. Something had shifted between them, and he didn’t like it one bit. He especially didn’t like hearing her refer to herself as one of his ‘lady friends’, as if she were cheapening their relationship and casting herself as one of many.

  “You are my only lady friend, and I mean every word of it.”

  “Oh, don’t become testy,” she chided him, her expression softening just a touch. Her fingers stroked his chest again, almost as if to soothe him. “I was not accusing you of being an unfaithful lover, but I am quite aware of the realities of life and eventually you will tire of me.” She sounded determinedly cheerful at the supposition - not as though his eventual tiring of her was something to be desired, just that it was a given and she would make the best of the situation.

  Benedict scowled. “Did we or did we not declare our feelings for each other, not half an hour ago in this very room?”

  Now her expression flickered to one of surprise and confusion. “Well, I did admit to feeling more than I ought, and, while you were not quite as explicit in-”

  “I love you,” Benedict declared hotly, cutting her off. “I love you and I want to marry you.”

  Whatever responses he had imagined, being immediately shoved out of her bed and onto the floor had not been one of them.

  ******

  “Oh! I’m sorry!” Christina cried out, clinging to the edge of the bed as she looked over it to see Benedict in a shocked heap on the floor. She hadn’t meant to shove him off the bed, but she’d just reacted so immediately and so forcefully that he’d practically gone flying.

  He was already pushing himself into a sitting position as she tried to decide whether to help him up.

  “Is that a no?” he asked, in that dry, drawling way that made her want to burst into laughter, but she also saw the flicker of hurt in his dark eyes.

  Christina hadn’t meant to hurt him - physically or emotionally - even if her actions indicated otherwise. So, she held back her immediate response - of course her answer was no! - to ascertain why he would have made such an unexpected declaration.

  Declaring his love was logical if he wanted to marry her, since he did not need her money or social position, but why on earth was he speaking of marriage at all? He was several years away from thirty - they both were - and while she was young for a widow, she was quite old for a bride and he was certainly below the age of most grooms! As long as his brother’s wife bore an heir to the dukedom, he had no actual need to marry. If he did one day choose to do so in order to have a family of his own, it would be expected he choose a fresh, young bride, not a used widow who hadn’t provided her previous husband with any children whatsoever. The thought made her heart ache but…

  She forced a smile onto her face anyway, as Benedict stood, sitting back on her haunches. Fortunately, he didn’t seem angered at all. While he could be a very strict disciplinarian when they were exploring their erotic pleasures, he could also appreciate the absurd and unpredictable moments of life. It was one of the things she lo- liked so much about him. “I should punish you for teasing me by accepting your proposal, and then making you do all manner of groveling to make it up to me when you’re forced to recant.”

  To her surprise, now he began scowling at her. His expression would have been much more appropriate when she’d pushed him off the bed! “I am not teasing.”

  The declaration lay heavy in the room, dampening the spirits Christina had tried to summon. Suddenly she felt very strange, very cold, and very vulnerable. She snatched up her sheets, holding them in front of her like the modest maiden she wasn’t. Not that she minded his eyes on her naked body, but she felt very in need of some kind of shield.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped as her mind whirled, her confusion and disquiet stirring her temper.

  He seemed completely serious, and part of her responded with every bit of yearning possible, but the other part of her - the more logical, more cautious part of herself which she’d been pushing aside since he’d appeared in her bedchamber - was crying the alarm. Christina was no longer a giddy girl, taken in by a man’s words of love, only to find herself brokenhearted and trapped in a prison of her own naive making. Did Benedict have debts she didn’t know of? Was he trying to escape some kind of unwanted understanding with another lady? She didn’t understand what he had to gain by making such an absurd offer, but she understood very well how much it would hurt when he was done
playing with her emotions.

  Benedict crossed his arms over his chest and Christina found her eyes averting from his hard gaze. Which was just as well; he apparently felt no need to shield his nakedness and right now looking up on him standing so proudly nude in her bedchamber only made her hurt worse. Why did he have to go and ruin everything like this?

  She shifted uncomfortably under his stare.

  “You can’t possibly think to actually marry me,” she finally said, unable to hide the bitterness she felt, the resentment at being forced to actually say so.

  Christina sat back on the bed, wishing there were a hundred feet between them and quite a few more layers of clothing. Although such superficial means of distancing herself might not have helped very much either, considering the intimacies they’d just engaged in. Even now she could feel the pleasant soreness between her legs and the tingling warmth still lingering along the surface of her bottom.

  “More than think to, I am determined to,” he said, a hard edge of steel in his voice.

  She stared at him, her voice failing her for a long moment. “But why?”

  He stared at her, just as flummoxed. “Why on earth wouldn’t I want to marry you? You’re beautiful inside and out, you make me smile, I’ve never had a lover who completed me so completely, I can talk to you about anything, confide in you, relax with you, and I love you.”

  “Stop saying that!” Pain seized her chest, making her want to scream. An old pain that was beating at her rib cage and making it hard for her to breathe. She’d honestly never wanted to hear those words from a man again… they’d brought her nothing but misery.

  “Stop saying what?!”

  “That you love me!” The words were torn out of her, and it was unclear to both of them whether she was making a plea or an order. Christina gasped for air, clenching her fists in her sheets. Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she ignored them, the same way she ignored Benedict’s attempts to meet her gaze. “You don’t need to say such things, there’s no reason to, even if you wanted to marry me, it would make more sense that you do so because we are well matched socially, and I am an accomplished hostess, and we enjoy the same entertainments, and… and… reasons of that… that nature…”