Page 48 of Love in the Time of Scandal
There was a faint ringing in his ears. He watched her fingers raptly, mesmerized by her willingness to let him watch. He hadn’t really thought she would, but now her spine was softening—he could see a ripple of gooseflesh over her arms—her lips parted and a breathy moan escaped—
He pulled, raising her hips. “Take me,” he said, his voice a guttural rumble. Penelope’s eyes flashed at him, feverishly bright, but she did as he commanded. Benedict had to hold his breath for a moment as she positioned herself, but then she was sinking down, and he was sliding into the hot, wet grasp of her body. “Spread your knees,” he told her, and his breath escaped in a hiss as she did so and impaled herself even further.
“And now I...?” She sounded as breathless as he felt.
Benedict nodded once and gripped her hips again. “Like posting a trot. Put your hands on my shoulders—” He stopped speaking then as she put together what to do, and rose up on her knees before slowly sinking down. His head fell back in a silent groan of excruciating pleasure.
“I feel quite in control of you,” she whispered in delight, repeating her motion. “As if you’re under my spell—”
He grinned, tautly, and moved to forestall her talking. Not that he minded, but he wanted her as delirious as he was. He wanted her to lose control and sense and feel the same drowning ecstasy that simmered all up and down his spine. He slipped one hand around her hip and nestled his thumb in the blond curls between her legs. Every time she fell, he could feel himself as well, and the sight and sound of his flesh plunging deep into her made it difficult to breathe.
“Oh—oh—” She went still, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, when he touched her there. “Oh, wait,” she begged, her voice wheezing. “That feels so—so—”
“Good?” he supplied, forcing his eyes open to watch her face. Her hair fell around her in shining disarray, her eyes were wide and unfocused, and her breasts quivered with every breath she sucked in.
“Yes,” she gasped. Her legs were shaking.
He urged her hips downward, tilting his own upward to drive himself deeper. “Both at the same time.”
The pace was neither as smooth nor as even as it had been before, but Benedict thought it would break his mind. Arms braced on his shoulders, she rode him roughly and eagerly, her hair swinging around her shoulders. He focused on her face, memorizing every flicker of her eyelashes, every flick of her tongue over her lips, every little sign of impending climax. He wanted to know her inside and out; he wanted to know exactly how to bring her to this brazen wantonness, so he could do it again and again.
When he felt the first convulsions of her release, he pulled her close, holding her to his chest as she shuddered and cried, and the storm gathering along the length of his spine broke at last. It felt as though part of his soul poured into her, and for a moment he could only cling to her, robbed of speech and thought.
And then...This is what she wants, came the insidious thought. This was passion and excitement, which he knew she craved. His arms tightened around her. God, she’d been right. He couldn’t imagine almost passing out in any other woman’s arms. And silently Benedict said a fervent prayer of thanks to every busybody in London who had helped precipitate his marriage. He’d promised Mr. Weston he would do his damned best to make Penelope happy, and if this was part of that, it would be the truest vow he’d ever made.
“I guess it works,” she said faintly, “on a settee.”
He laughed, making his chest hurt. “Better than I expected, even.”
She raised her head. He thought she’d never looked more lushly beautiful than she did now, with her color high and her eyes glowing and a pleased smile curving her lips. “Really?”
“Didn’t you think so?” There seemed to be a permanent grin on his face. “Perhaps we’d better try it again, if you’re not sure.”
“Hmm.” She arched one brow speculatively. “But I have other ideas.”
God bless Lady Constance, Benedict thought. “I am all attentiveness.” But then he ruined it by yawning. It was nearly midnight; he’d been awake since dawn and ridden almost twenty miles, with the last heady gallop the most thrilling—and exhausting.
His bride only smiled. She ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing it over his temple, and his eyes almost closed in pleasure at the caress. “Perhaps tomorrow. Shall we go to bed?”
Benedict could barely raise his head. The servants would be aghast at the state of the rooms in the morning, with clothing everywhere, but at the moment he couldn’t be moved to care. It seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to get off the settee, make his way to the bedroom, remove the rest of his clothes and boots, and wash up before finally—blessedly—falling into bed. Penelope was already there, since she’d been ready for bed. Benedict snuffed the lamp and stuffed the pillow under his head, pleased and mildly surprised when she snuggled against him.
“Benedict,” she whispered.
He brushed his lips across her forehead. Marriage was turning out to be better than he’d ever hoped. By God, if he came home to Penelope like this every night... “Hmm?”
“I have something to ask you.” Her voice was silky and low. She sounded as relaxed as he felt, and the feeling of easy companionship made him draw her just a little closer. Her hand flattened on his chest, and her fingers began a lazy stroking motion that was shockingly soothing. “I know it’s very early in our marriage, but you did say you want us to be happy together, and that means we must come to trust each other and try to help each other, doesn’t it?”
“Indeed.” Another yawn cracked his jaw, and he felt himself slipping into sleep.
“Then if there is something I need, I should be able to ask for it without hesitation, shouldn’t I?”
He smiled faintly, wondering what she wanted. Most likely a new bonnet. Women and their fashions. “What is it?”
“I need two hundred pounds, and I need it tomorrow morning.”
Benedict opened his eyes. “What?”
“Two hundred pounds,” she repeated in the same careless way. “Can you get it for me in the morning?”
