Chapter Eighteen: Frenzy [Part Two]

✦ Author's Note ✦

As I promised, here it is. I should probably include a warning that it is slightly (or maybe not slightly?) NSFW so read at your own peril. Alas, you have watched Bridgerton so I shouldn't be too worried.

L.H. 

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"We wouldn't like to be interrupted, would we," Franny asked in a low tone, with a half-smile and a brow raised.

Then she approached Benedict with determined, quick steps and a steady composure, not taking her grey eyes off him. Benedict felt a rush of desire run through him and he suddenly grew very impatient for her touch. There was something urgent and demanding in her gaze as if she was daring him to touch her, to kiss her, to make her his. There were no unnatural mannerisms and artificial primness, no games and feigned interest; Franny's desire for him was thinly veiled and that made his blood boil.

She walked by him, and stopped in front of him hesitantly, biting her lips, wondering what to do next. Benedict had many, many ideas, one more wicked than the other, and each involving fewer and fewer layers of clothes, but he wanted to give Franny the chance to decide how to proceed. Then she turned around, brushed her hair forward, revealing the swanlike column of the back of her neck.

"Will you help me unbutton my painting gown," she asked, her chest rising and falling under heavy breaths.

"Of course," he replied with alacrity and untied the knot at the small of her back.

He took pleasure in this slow, tantalising interlude, with each button coming closer to removing the unwanted piece of cloth. It was painfully intimate as his fingers moved along the back of her spine. Then he reached out and brushed them across her shoulders to push the dress gently forward. The gown fell on the ground with a soft thud, and Franny spun around. With a mix of innocence and ardour, she placed both of her hands on his shoulders. Without taking her eyes off him, she slowly, but confidently put one leg after the other across his toned tights, crawling into his lap. Benedict grunted as their bodies touched and he could no longer contain his desire. A delightful shade of crimson spread on Franny's cheeks as she could also feel his need and she bit her lower lip.

"You have no idea how many things I want to do to you," he whispered in a low tone, grabbing her head, his palm encompassing her cheek. He felt her easing into his touch, then her eyes darted back to his, her pupils extended.

"Why don't we get to work then," she purred, then draw her lips forcefully to Benedict's, devouring him in a hungry, possessive kiss. Benedict gave in to his animalistic instincts, racing her in a primal dance of passion.

Her fingers dug deeply into his thick, coal-black hair, while Benedict's hand slid down and grabbed her bottom. Her spine tightened and she let out a moan, making Benedict growl possessively. His fingers quickly found the fastenings of the back of her dress, while his tongue was still exploring Franny's mouth. He loosened the dress just enough so that he could yank it down with one swift move, undoing her bodice, freeing Franny's breasts just on his eye level. She gasped as the cold air hit her bosom and was painfully aware that she was now exposed in front of Benedict. He did not seem to be bothered, on the contrary, his eyes darted downwards, and his lips curved into a hungry grin.

"I am sorry, I know they are not mu-," Benedict decided that the best way to retort Franny would be to take one of her nipples into his mouth. He sucked on it, then drew wet circles around it with his tongue, nibbling and licking while his hand took care of the other breast, giving it the same intoxicating treatment. Franny's nipples hardened and she was quickly reduced to mumbles, sinking into Benedict's embrace, mesmerised by his touch.

"Hmm, I cannot hear you Miss Granville, do you have anything to add?" he teased her in an indulgent tone, glancing up to her and indulging in the way her lips were parted sensually and her eyes were dizzy with pleasure.

"No?" he said, then pinched Franny's nipple, making her jump, "We should not discriminate, should we?" he laughed, then took her other nipple in his mouth and proceeded to careless and stroke it with the same sensual onslaught, placing kisses all over the sensitive skin. Franny felt a burning sensation taking over her whole body and she no longer had any comprehensible thought in her head, just the way Benedict was kissing her breast, sending pulses of desire across her, concentrating in her centre, anticipation building up in her. There was no reason or thinking anymore, just primal, burning, all-encompassing desire. She wanted more.

"Benedict," she whispered his name as a plea, her voice laced with urgent want, "I need you to touch me."

Benedict looked up, one of his brows raising in seductively, an indulgent smile spreading on his handsome face.

"I need you to be a little bit more specific than that," he replied, clearly enjoying the control he had over her. Franny could barely mutter a comprehensible sentence, while he had his wits. That made her pissed. Benedict caught the frustrated glint in her eyes and decided to get to work before she could wriggle out of his spell. Dear God, giving pleasure to this woman was hard work, but he was enjoying himself immensely.

"What about here," he reached out to her jaw, chipped it between his fingers and drew her in a fierce and demanding kiss.

"No, I don't think so," he murmured as his lips left hers, and his hand slid gently downwards to the side of her neck, stopping at the nape of her neck, drawing her closer, while his other hand grabbed her breast. She let out a satisfied moan and he was eager to continue their enticing little game.

His hand continued its way down her spine, cupping the lush curve of her bottom and squeezing on her cheek. Franny jumped again, huffing frustratedly, making Benedict chuckle lightly. He loved pushing her boundaries.

"I want you to touch me down there," she finally blurted out, her voice mixed with embarrassment and need.

"Hmm, Miss Granville, from where do you get your ideas?" he raised a brow cheekily, meeting her gaze. Franny opened her mouth to say something definitely indignant, but he did not give her the chance.

"Very well, your wish is my command," his hands slid under her dress with deliberate, excruciating slowness, making her dissolve, melt and fall apart under his touch.

Firstly, he slipped off her shoes, one by one. Then, step by step he traced her stockings with two long fingers, tickling her skin under the fabric until he found the edge and yanked it down with a quick motion. He heard as the air was knocked out Franny's lungs and she grabbed on his shoulders to keep herself steady. His fingers then started their journey over again, proceeding to do the same with the other stocking, while he did not take his eyes off her face, coloured by the crimson shade of desire, her body responding eagerly to his touch.

"Now tell me," he murmured in the tone that made Franny's heart beat faster, "Have you ever been touched?"

Franny blushed, which was incredible as his fingers were leisurely moving upwards to her centre, leaving burning trails along the way. He could feel her trembling with desire.