Page 58 of Love in the Time of Scandal
“But only a start.” His hand withdrew from between her legs, leaving her throbbing with thwarted desire. “How does one enslave a woman? Shackles are worthless. The only way to keep her attention is to sate her—to fulfill her darkest desires—to leave her as fascinated, and as hungry for more, as I am.”
She was leagues away from sated. “I do want you.”
A low laugh made her ears burn. “I can tell.” Again his fingers slid between her legs, a light, passing stroke that made her pull against her bonds and whimper. “But this is no ordinary love affair. We are bound as one until death do us part, and there’s no reason to rush to hasty climaxes.”
She bit back a plea for just one hasty climax. Even as it surprised her, this play enthralled her. What would he do? He was dark and almost intimidating now, running his hands over her body as if probing for her most sensitive spot. It was Benedict and yet not like himself, and Penelope could hardly see straight for the craving he inspired.
She had told herself he must be scheming at something, that he never showed his true face to the world. Whatever he was playing at now—whether he meant anything he said about being dazzled and delighted by her—she was sure of two things: first, that he was as aroused as she was, and second, that he had found her great weakness and was ruthlessly exploiting it. Tied up, stretched and exposed, helpless to escape or return his sensual touch, she had never been more excited in her life. If this was to be the new way of things between them, she would never notice another man.
“Spread your knees,” he murmured, sliding his hands down her inner thighs and helping her do as he commanded. “Lean forward.” Her shoulders ached as she did, and he reached up and adjusted the knot, giving her a few more inches of play. She barely managed to breathe a sigh of relief—for her shoulders—when he slid his other hand back up her thigh, delved into the intimate folds there, and began to stroke her, more boldly and forcefully than ever before.
It was as if lightning struck her. Sparks seemed to crackle over her skin. The feeling threatened to swamp her, drown her, but she dimly heard her own voice, goading him on, and his guttural answers. The rail above her head creaked as her body undulated, almost independently of thought. Benedict raked one hand down her spine and she nearly sobbed in pleasure.
His hand settled at the small of her waist, pressing down. She arched her back, holding her breath as he took his erection in hand and rubbed the blunt head against her, where his fingers had tormented her just a moment ago. Back and forth he moved, gliding over her slick flesh until she trembled with need.
“I want you,” she repeated, her voice shaking.
“Do you?” He pushed deep inside her. Penelope shuddered. He pulled out.
“Yes,” she moaned as he resumed stroking that raw, tender spot.
“Desperately?” He slid deep again.
“Madly,” she choked.
He stroked her for another minute, then took hold of her hips. “Then we’re equal.” And this time when he thrust into her, it was only the beginning. His strokes were long, hard, and wickedly deep. He held her hips, controlling the pace and denying her the rapid ride she wanted.
Tears leaked down her face; she could hardly breathe. Everything inside her bore down, hard and tight and hot, on his increasingly urgent thrusts. Then suddenly he stopped, leaving her stranded on the precipice. He gripped her hip so hard his fingers trembled. His other hand reached back between her legs and touched her, and that delicate touch sprang the trap. Penelope gasped, then shook as release roared through her. In time with the pulse of her body, Benedict thrust again and again, hard and sure, his breath a feral grunt against her shoulder, until he put his head down on her back and growled in climax.
She thought she would never move again. Vaguely she noticed that her arms had gone numb, but she didn’t care. Would that it could always be that way with them.
He reached up to the knot, then hesitated. Gently, reverently, his hands slid once more the length of her body. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, almost wistfully. “So open and honest.” One arm closed around her waist and his forehead touched her shoulder. “I want to make you happy.” He pulled loose the knot and caught her as she sank down.
She turned her head and laid her cheek against his temple. “I want us both to be happy. I just... I just feel we don’t understand each other.”
He gave a sad laugh. “I fear not. But I don’t know how to fix that.”
Penelope felt like she was glowing. No doubt the pleasure still lingering in her veins made her reckless, but she ignored the little voice that had been hissing in her ear for the last few weeks, sowing insidious doubts about him and their future together. “Just talk to me,” she said softly. “I want to know you, and you to know me. Not just which carpet to lay in the drawing room, but what you really feel. Between us there need be no secrets, no shame. I warrant I have enough faults of my own to balance any of yours, and if I cannot trust you with my deepest, darkest thoughts, whom can I trust?”
He didn’t answer for a moment. She felt his breathing on her skin and wondered if again she’d said the wrong thing. Perhaps he didn’t care for that sort of marriage; perhaps he wanted too much to keep his own secrets.
“If you feel differently, I wish you would just tell me,” she went on. Better to get it all out now while she felt bravely rash. “I have tried to hew to the model of discretion and civility you seem to embrace, but I cannot keep it up. I don’t want to demand something you aren’t willing to give me, but—”
He squeezed her. “Don’t say you’ll turn to someone else. I don’t want that.”
“I don’t, either,” she whispered. “But it’s killing me to live as strangers.”
“Strangers!”
Penelope twisted until she faced him. “Aren’t we? Aside from this, I mean.”
“This?” He cupped her cheek. “You mean our passion for each other.”
“I just wish it could be like this always between us,” she said.
His face changed. For a moment he just looked at her, his eyes deep and searching. “Like this...”
She blushed. “Well—nothing barred, I suppose. This—this was so exciting, so wanton and unrestrained. There was no thought of propriety or dignity.” She gave an unsteady laugh. “At least not on my part.”
