Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

It was practically a blur how she had ended up in this position, but there she was, trembling with exhilaration as Lord Seton, no, Benedict, sensuously kissed his way up her legs towards her most private place.

And Emmaline was letting him do it.

She could halt him, he had told her he would stop at any moment.

But she didn’t want him to.

Emmaline kept her hand on him anyway, more because she wanted to feel him than because she needed to.

Any good sense remaining had deserted her in the wake of the fire his touch had ignited under her skin, and a voice whispered in the back of her mind to just enjoy herself, just once.

Who will know? Benedict will not say anything, he is a man of honour, and you know that you will never again experience anything like this. Let yourself take pleasure in life for once, stop watching it go by from the corner while you record it, but don’t live it.

There had been some initial embarrassment over her figure. Emmaline knew she was more voluptuously sized than what was fashionable, but Benedict had not seemed to mind, if anything, he had looked upon her abundant figure with blatant desire.

It felt so good to be wanted. Even now, he was squeezing the flesh of her thigh, biting wickedly into the plumpness as she shuddered under his touch.

“ Bellissimo . Beautiful,” he whispered against her skin, the foreign word slipping from his lips with ease. He spoke more strange things, the language lilting and passionate.

“Open for me,” he ordered, coaxing her thighs apart all the way, hooking her leg over his shoulder as Emmaline tried to remember how to breathe where she lay back on the couch.

Benedict settled himself there and smoothed his hands up the outside of her thighs, raking the nightgown up to her waist and removing the last barrier of her modesty.

The anticipation of the moment almost killed her, but somehow Emmaline survived, and then Benedict brushed his fingers through the tangle of dark curls between her thighs and dipped his head, his breath ghosting across that most tender of flesh.

He started slow, light drags of his tongue, teasing the outer folds of her femininity while her very core tensed and ached, needing something only he could give her.

Her fingers wandered to the golden tousle of his hair, touching him with her heart in her throat as his mouth pressed closer, the slight prickle of his evening beard sending a delicious shiver of pleasure all through her.

He did something divine with his mouth, and Emmaline widened her legs wantonly with a gasp, needing him closer, needing more as he licked every inch of her with a hunger that made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world.

Within moments, Emmaline was writhing against him, her legs trembling uncontrollably as he tongued relentlessly over one magical spot that made sparks burst behind her eyelids. She cried out, unable to keep the rapturous feeling inside any longer.

Benedict growled anamalistically against her flesh, digging his chin into her core as he feasted on her pleasure, flicking his tongue mercilessly, dragging it side to side until Emmaline thought she would explode with bliss.

Her fingers dug desperately into his forearms, trying to anchor herself against the storm of sensation, but he halted immediately, pulling back as Emmaline whimpered with frustration.

“Do you need me to stop?” Benedict asked, his voice rough as he drew away.

“No. No no no- ” Emmaline thrashed her head on the cushion, wrapping her legs urgently across his shoulders as he kissed the crease of her inner thigh with a groan and then dove back in, cupping her bottom with his hands and dragging her down onto his mouth as she moaned in ecstasy.

Once again, he teased her to the height of pleasure, sucking now, in between drags of his tongue, urging her to some unknown pinnacle with his mouth, his body, as Emmaline felt herself come adrift, lost in a sea of sensation that suddenly dropped out from under her.

The cry that ripped from her throat was a vague sound in the distance as Emmaline convulsed with rapture, all thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind as she pulsed with pleasure, every inch of her skin on fire.

Somehow, Emmaline survived, and then she felt herself float back down onto the settee, Benedict stretched out beside her, cradling her as her limbs shook and she desperately attempted to catch her breath.

He was whispering something soft in her ear, but Emmaline could not concentrate on anything, her thoughts still reeling from her first experience of physical pleasure.

“ Ti amo, Bellissima ,” said Benedict, kissing her temple gently as he cradled her close for what seemed an unfairly short amount of time. Then he rose and reached down to help her rise on unsteady feet.

“Come, sweet Emmaline, I will return you to your room.”