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eleanor-bradstreet · 9 months ago

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I'm so glad you liked this Valentine's indulgence!!! 🥹💖🫶 I know, if only we all got to unwrap a box of....Benedict for ourselves 😜😜

would a box of Bendick's mints count??

Let Me Be Your Anchor

Chapter 13: Release

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett An Offer from a Gentleman reimagined Chapter rating: 18+ - explicit sexual content Word count: 5.1k

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Author's Note: Happy Valentine's Day! How about a little steam for our lovebirds? 😉💖

Abandoning any hope of ever finishing the portrait, Benedict led Sophie by the hand to his bedroom. The hour was late and they encountered no one in the hall. He closed the door behind them as Sophie moved to stand near the fire, looking somewhat anxious. He took her face in his hands, wanting to soothe away all of her fears.

“Sophie, there’s no need to be nervous. We can go as slowly as you like. I just want to make you feel good like before.” He was in earnest despite how his blood was racing. Whatever they were doing, whatever kind of arrangement this was now, he didn’t want to simply take his pleasure from her. He wanted to get to know her and savor her in whatever way she would let him.

“Alright,” She let out a shuddering breath, betraying that she still was not at ease.

“A drink?” He asked, reaching for a decanter.

“Thank you,” She gave him a small smile. He poured two glasses of wine and handed one to her with a clink. A toast to whatever new chapter they were beginning.

She sipped her drink and stared at him, shifting slightly from foot to foot. He beckoned for her to sit in an armchair then knelt before her. Setting down his glass, he bent and began to untie her shoes.

Sophie let out a small gasp. “Benedict! You don’t have to…”

“Shhh.” He smirked up at her. “Enjoy the wine.”

Shocked at being pampered like a veritable queen, she leaned back into the warm chair and took another sip of the ruby liquid. It was undoubtedly the finest wine she had ever tasted and she was grateful that it was helping to calm her nerves. She wanted this, whatever it was they were about to do, but she was still new to it all. Aside from an errant kiss by a servant boy in her youth, all of her romantic interactions had been with Benedict. He was the first and only to kiss her with such passion, the first and only to touch and savor her body, the first and only to declare that he wanted her in the way men wanted women, without nefarious intent. While she trusted him to be patient, she was rather bashful of her ignorance. She chided herself for not asking more of Genevieve, inquiring as to what she did with men she had no intention of marrying. As the tryst in the orangery had proven to her, she knew nothing of how to achieve pleasure.

Benedict slid her shoes off one after the other then began to massage her legs, running his hands from her ankles to her knees. Sophie couldn’t help but groan, enjoying the pressure on her tired calves. She had never imagined him treating her this way, as if he were a servant hired to tend to her every need. He certainly knew how to charm a woman. Setting her glass aside, she looked down at him on his knees. The light from the fireplace cast the most lovely shadows across the angles of his face and glinted in the waves of his tousled hair.

“The hours seemed so long tonight, waiting to see you again,” she admitted.

With a smile he slid his hands over her skirt and up the length of her thighs, then took her waist and buried his face into her bodice. Sophie shivered against the strength of his grip, running her fingers into his hair.

“Let’s hope the hours stay long,” he murmured, tilting to look up at her. He was indescribably beautiful, his jaw angular and framing that cheeky, crooked grin. His eyes were a shimmering blue-grey, set softly under long lashes and dark brows that were as quick to turn upward with mirth as they were to knit together with concern. His whole countenance was gentle and inquisitive, joyful but discerning. He was an artist, but Sophie saw him as a masterpiece in his own right.

She pressed her lips to his. He tasted like claret and salt, his mouth opening to welcome her tongue. He kissed her back with increasing intensity, both of their breaths growing ragged. The heat built quickly, tingling under Sophie’s skin and pooling between her legs. The same feeling as before. Her stomach flipped with excitement at knowing he would bring her release again.

Before she knew it, Benedict had pulled her legs around his waist and lifted her into the air, carrying her across the room to the bed. He set her on the edge and knelt again between her knees. His large hands splayed across her back as his kisses moved down her neck and shoulders, lingering on her collarbone. She wound her fingers into the hair at his nape, closing her eyes as she fell under the spell of his lips.

“Can I take this off?” He rasped, the tips of his fingers pressing into the fabric of her dress.

“Yes,” she breathed, and felt everything starting to loosen as he slipped each button free. She wanted desperately to feel his skin, and she grabbed at the fine linen of his shirt, bunching it in her hands until it came loose of his waistband. He took her cue and quickly tore off the garment, flinging it across the room. Sophie had just an instant to stare at his bare chest before his mouth was on hers again. She touched him, skimming her hands across his torso, surprised and delighted when his muscles quivered beneath her fingers.

As their tongues collided, he gently slid her dress and chemise down her shoulders. He chased the sleeves with hot kisses as he pulled them fully down her arms and everything tumbled to her waist, leaving her shamelessly exposed. She found that she was not self conscious and arched her back, offering herself to him like some sort of forbidden fruit.

Benedict stopped breathing when he saw her. He’d pictured this moment in his mind so many times - every night as he lay in this very bed, and in every dream when he actually slept. But this - reality - was far sweeter than a dream, and far more erotic. His hand, which had been stroking the warm skin on her back, slowly slid over her rib cage.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, knowing that the words were hopelessly inadequate. As if mere words could describe what he felt. And then, when his trembling fingers finished their journey and held her breast, he let out a shuddering exhale. His need for her was so intense, so primitive. It robbed him of his ability to think.

He needed her next to him, below him, on top of him. He needed her in him, around him, a part of him. He needed her the way he needed air, indispensably.

He leaned forward slowly and kissed her once more, feeling gooseflesh prickle her skin beneath his fingers. It was remarkable, but every time he kissed her, her lips seemed to grow sweeter, her scent more beguiling. And his need grew, too. His blood was racing with desire, and it was taking his every last shred of restraint not to push her back onto the mattress and tear her clothes from her body. But he stopped himself with a reminder. This time was about her. He was here to please her needs, not his own. He wanted her to know she was safe and to show her a damn good time if he could.

“What do you…” he swallowed, trying to steady his pounding heart. “What do you want, Sophie?”

Her mouth hung open with heavy breaths. Her eyes were so dark he couldn’t see their color anymore. She hesitated.

“Do you feel an ache?” He rumbled from deep in his chest, moving to settle his hand on her thigh. “Between your legs?”

She nodded and the neediness of her look made him fight for composure. He took one of her hands and kissed her palm. “I can help you with that. Like before.”

“Yes.” She was practically vibrating but surprised him by cupping his face. “But Benedict, I want to pleasure you too. Very much. Only I don’t…I’ll need you to teach me.”

Benedict’s heart skipped a beat. Something in her earnest plea made him more aroused than he had ever felt. She was assertive despite her inexperience. She had the courage to take control and wanted to grant him pleasure in the way that he showed her. It was more erotic than any of the experienced women he’d been with, who had lain with him for mutual enjoyment but with little conversation or demonstration of concern. Sophie left him in awe.

Dumbstruck, he nodded. “Alright, but you first.”

Then he let passion take center stage, returning his lips to hers in a searing, barely controlled dance of desire. Sophie hummed with pleasure as they wrapped their arms around each other and fell back onto the bed. She reveled in the pressure of his body against hers, skin against skin. It was the most glorious feeling she could ever imagine. He felt so good, so steady and warm, and even though his muscles were lean and powerful, his skin was seductively soft. He even smelled good, a warm masculine mixture of sandalwood and soap.

He murmured her name like a benediction as he lowered her back onto the mattress. “How I have wanted you,” he groaned. “You have no idea. No idea.”

Her only response was a soft mewling sound that came from deep in her throat. For some reason that was like oil on the fire within him, and his fingers clutched at her even tighter, pressing into her skin as his lips traveled down the swanlike column of her throat.

He moved lower, lower, burning a hot trail on her skin, pausing only briefly when he reached the gentle swell of her breast. She was completely beneath him now, her eyes glazed with desire, and it was so much better than any of his dreams. And oh, how he’d dreamed of her.

With a low, possessive growl, Benedict took her nipple into his mouth. She let out a soft yelp, and he was unable to suppress his own low rumble of satisfaction. When he moved his mouth to her other breast and renewed his sensual onslaught, her lips parted and her head lolled back.

“Do you like this?” he whispered, tracing the peak of her breast with his tongue. Sophie couldn’t quite manage to open her eyes, but she nodded. “What about this?” He nibbled gently at her nipple, grazing it with his teeth. Sophie hissed and stiffened beneath him, her fingers pressing into his back, but he knew from her moan that she found it agreeable. In one motion he ran his tongue down the middle of her, licking a trail along her skin until he reached her navel. She squirmed as his hands moved everywhere, down her legs, around her waist, until her dress and chemise were gone. She was completely nude, and it felt very odd but somehow also very right, as long as he was touching her.

Benedict’s feet found the floor again and he stood between Sophie’s legs, enraptured with the woman lying before him across the bed. He leaned down on one arm and sucked gently at her breast while his other hand squeezed her thigh. He trailed his fingers upward and ran them gently over her folds. She was wet already and despite how he ached for her, he would ease her into each step, building a progression of sensations for her to try. He slipped one finger inside of her, grinning with satisfaction as her entire body jerked and tensed around him. They had done this before and he knew she enjoyed it. Now into uncharted territory. He pressed a second finger into her, walls gripping him tightly. He held back a groan.

“Is this alright?” He rasped, searching her face for any sign of discomfort.

Sophie moaned. Her eyes were shut, hands clenching the blanket beneath her as her hips began to move, pressing back against his hand.

“Yes,” she panted. “Please…more…”

Any hesitation she may have had was quelled from her mind with the singular, numbing need she felt building between her legs. This was madness. Fever. That feeling that she had only felt once before, and only thanks to this man. It was something that needed release, something that grabbed at her, and yet even with all this pressure, it felt so spectacularly wonderful, as if she’d been born for this very moment.

Benedict slid his fingers in and out slowly, straight at first and then curled lightly to pet her inside. He licked his lips which were growing dry from his labored breath, his eyes dark and locked on Sophie’s body, her every move.

“Benedict?” she gasped. “Is this…this is what it’s like when…”

He hovered his face above hers and their eyes met. Hers were hazy with desire but they held a question.

“Yes,” he purred, his fingers still rhythmically pressing into her, making her shift up and down beneath him. “Only it’s more pressure, and it’s deeper.”

She gave a slight nod, eyes fluttering closed again as he glided within her. “And…” she fought for words between breaths. “A man and woman will go on like this until…until his seed is planted?”

Benedict had never slept with a virgin but he had engaged in these alternate explorations with a few young ladies of the ton as a young man. A number of balls had been spent hidden in closets and side rooms, exploring each other’s mouths and bodies without committing the full act. It was surprising for a maid to be as sheltered as those ladies had been. But he found her forthrightness endearing.

With his free hand he smoothed her hair back from her face. “Yes, they will move until the man releases himself. But if he does not finish inside her body, there will be no child.”

Sophie’s eyes opened with realization. It was as if he could read her mind and had anticipated her question. His lips descended on hers once again, tongue swiping across her bottom lip as his fingers dragged along her walls with a steady cadence.

“And it should bring her pleasure,” he murmured against her lips. “The act should always bring her pleasure, though most men forget that.”

Sophie’s head lolled against the mattress and she gripped his shoulders as he began rubbing her crest on each stroke, driving into her more fervently,. The sounds she made were exquisite, mewling and groaning, whimpering and gasping as she tensed and relaxed, pressing herself against him, willing him to go deeper, move faster. Move faster he did, pushing into her at the same pace his cock was begging for, the same pace at which he wanted to see her bounce beneath the whole of his body. He could feel her loosening just a bit more as her fluids slicked his fingers.

In and out, in and out, he was growing delirious with the motion, with the warmth and pressure inside of her, with the shaking of her breasts in response to the cadence of his hand. He held himself above her and watched her face, reveling in the twists of her lips and dance of her brows as she reacted to all he was doing. Just when his rigid cock issued a drop of desperation against his strained trousers, he felt her clench within.

She moaned and clawed at his back, pulling him tight against her. “Benedict,” she pleaded. “I need…I need…” She writhed beneath him, eyes closed and face screwed up with desperation.

“Yes,” he exhaled, clamping his palm down upon her mound and rocking against it with heavy pressure. “Yes, you’re nearly there,” he coaxed, caressing her forehead again and watching her face with wonder. “That’s it. Chase that feeling.”

Mouth open but holding her breath, she bucked back against his hand as he pinned her hips down with his body. She squirmed desperately, grinding herself against his soaked palm. Benedict bit his tongue to keep his head from swimming. Lord, she was so captivating. The whole of her naked body heaving under his, burning with arousal, skin sheened with sweat as she came apart under his hands. He felt her walls quiver closer and closer together until at last she peaked, spasms dancing down his fingers, clenching and rippling. The whole of her sex throbbed within his grip as her breath returned staccato in his ear.

He tried to swallow his own moan, lowering to lay on top of her. He wanted to feel her every tremor, her pounding heartbeat, the heat rising off of her in waves.

Sophie clung to him, jerking with aftershocks, her mind drifting away to that plane of bliss again. Somehow the weight of him and the warmth of his skin against hers deepened the ecstasy. She felt cradled in a place of comfort the likes of which she had never experienced and she never wanted to leave.

She didn’t know how long she floated there but she was brought back into the room by Benedict’s soft kisses upon her cheek. She dragged her eyes open to see his, still sparkling and bright despite the dark hunger that lingered there.

“How do you feel?” he asked softly.

“I didn’t know,” she confessed. “I had no idea women could feel such pleasure.”

He smirked, proud of himself, the cheeky devil. But she was genuinely grateful. “Do men feel the same when they release?”

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Yes, we do.”

She licked her lips and stared up at him. “I want to do it to you. I want to make you feel this good.”

Benedict’s breath hitched. His cock was screaming to be set free. He was hard as a rock, harder than he could ever remember.

“But,” she cast her eyes down, unsure if she was ready to cross the final threshold. “Do you need to be inside of me?”

Benedict’s brows turned up and he kissed her sweetly. He could sense her nerves. “No. No, there are other ways. We will go slowly.”

She breathed a sigh of relief as he moved to stand once again between her knees. God, he was perfection. She took in the full sight of him, tall and shirtless, sculpted of lean muscle and pale freckled skin. The veins in his forearms flexed as his long fingers pulled off his boots and then tugged at his trouser buttons. His dark hair was wild, tousled into soft spikes from how she had played with it. Never taking his eyes from hers, he let his waistband fall and bared himself.

Sophie sat up and stared at his manhood shamelessly. It was long, longer than she had seen on any statue, though she supposed those were adapted for modesty’s sake. It stood at attention, as rigid as a sword and pointing right at her. It was intimidating imagining something so large invading her, but the thought was also so devilishly tempting to try. What would that skin feel like?

Tentatively, she reached out and ran her fingers lightly down his length. He hissed and she retracted instantly.

“I’m sorry!” She searched his face. “Did I hurt you?”

Benedict chuckled and took her chin in his hand. “No, no, of course not.” Then his voice dropped. “It’s that your touch drives me mad.”

Sophie shuddered under his gaze.

“Do it again.”

With more confidence, she reached out and wrapped the whole of her hand around him, amazed at how soft the skin was despite the stiffness of the muscles beneath.

“Show me.” Her voice was assertive as she looked to him for guidance.

Benedict bit his bottom lip and placed his hand over hers. He tightened her grip, suppressing a groan as he guided her in stroking him up and down slowly.

Sophie was captivated, feeling the ripple of his surging veins under her fingers, seeing the way his hips began to thrust lightly with the movement of their hands, and watching the agonizing pleasure that played across his face. A confidence began to grow within her. She was starting to understand how enjoyable it was to bring someone else pleasure. After a few strokes his hand moved hers to a faster speed, over and over again, tugging up and down smoothly.

“Just like that,” he gasped, then released her hand and brought his to rest on her shoulders. He lost himself to her touch. His mind could hardly process what was happening. That she was here, naked in his bed, touching him, stroking him, her eyes trailing across his body, her face a mixture of concentration and, he thought, a hint of pride at what she was doing to him. Any clumsiness in her movements was quickly overcome with a tight, steady cadence that made his head spin. She was a fast learner and it had been so long since he had been touched by someone else.

Since the masquerade he hadn’t frequented any brothels or engaged in any indiscreet acts at parties. He had gone entire years without the company of women, having only his hand for relief. It was unlike him, but he felt that he would be betraying his lady in silver if he sought pleasure with anyone else. Until Sophie. For whatever reason, she was worth breaking his abstinence. He’d thought he’d wanted a woman before. He’d thought he’d needed one. But this - this went beyond both. This was spiritual. This was in his soul.

He groaned and a bead of moisture leaked from his aching cock. Seeing it, Sophie stopped her movements and looked up at him trepidatiously. Before he could say anything, she leaned forward, extended her sweet tongue and swiped it off of him with a lick.

“Jesus, Sophie!” he practically roared, his hips stuttering to keep him upright. But unlike the first time, she didn’t shrink away. No, a fiendish little light flashed in her eyes and she advanced again, running her tongue down the length of him, tracing the largest of his veins. He shuddered, throwing his head back and gripping viciously into her shoulders. It spurred her on because then her warm lips wrapped around his head and she pushed forward, letting him slide into her hot, wet mouth.

He couldn’t stand it. With an agonized cry he pulled back, slipping from her lips. Now she looked up at him with concern, wiping her mouth.

“Benedict? I’m sorry…”

“No,” he panted, hanging his head. “No, that was…you’re just…” He could hardly believe what he saw before him, a bewitching mixture of innocence and temptation. “It’s almost too pleasurable.”

She grinned.

“Too much too soon.” He sighed with a smile. “Let’s go slowly.”

She nodded and squeezed his forearms reassuringly, surprised but grateful that he wanted to set such a gentle pace. She had been so enraptured by his attentions in the orangery, she simply wanted to please him with her mouth in return. She wanted to know how he tasted. The thought of future lessons made her stomach tighten with that same coiled heat again. Surely she couldn’t be needing release again already? She looked to him, wordlessly asking how he wanted to proceed.

“Lie back on the bed,” he said gently. “Make yourself comfortable.”

She pulled away, shifting until she was lying against the pillows. Benedict kicked his trousers from his ankles and climbed over to her. Watching him, Sophie’s stomach tightened further. Lithe and erect, moving toward her like a feral animal, his arms settling to frame her in the soft bed. It was all becoming clear now, the intense joy of carnal pleasures; why men were always in search of them and why women let themselves be ruined for them. She had never experienced such breathless anticipation. Such a longing to engage in sin and never stop.

Benedict loomed over her on all fours, eyes burning into hers as he took himself in hand and began stroking again, tight and slow.

“Is this the first cock you’ve seen?” His voice was dark velvet, hitting straight through to her spine.

Unable to look away, she traced her hands up to his shoulders, feeling his muscles flex as he touched himself. “Yes.”

“So this will be the first time you’ve seen a man come?” The growl of his tone made her toes curl. She could feel new dampness at the apex of her thighs.

“Yes.” It was barely above a whisper.

Benedict bent and kissed her neck deeply, then licked the soft skin behind her ear before rasping into it. “Can I come on you? I want to cover you with my seed.”

She couldn’t control the sound at the back of her throat as his plea went down through her body, making her channel clench around nothing. The air was too hot to breathe and unbidden, she found her hands falling to grip her breasts.

“Sophie,” a devilish whisper in her ear. “Are you aroused again? Do you want to come with me?”

She whimpered, nodding. “But I don’t…can I do that? So soon?”

A small chuckle. “Of course you can. Here, open your legs.”

She spread her legs and he shifted one of his own to settle against her, pressing into her slick womanhood with his thigh.

“Push against me,” he tutored. “Do whatever you want.”

Somewhat embarrassed but with too much burning need to care, Sophie shifted and ground herself down against his leg. She was drenched, smearing her wetness all over him, but it helped her to glide ever so slightly up and down. When she did, it snagged her bud and she moaned, pressing with all of her weight. She could feel him flex his leg and push back against her too, urging her on. It was like riding a horse astride in the filthiest, most pleasurable way.

“Does that feel good?” Benedict’s voice was tight. She nodded needily. “Keep doing that and come with me.”

He was still stroking himself, his pace growing faster as his breath started to run ragged. They locked into each other’s eyes, entranced as his arm pumped and Sophie shifted, rocking up and down against him. Their mouths hung open against each other, breaths noisy as they chased their pleasure and challenged the other to reach theirs.

Benedict’s brow knitted with emotions she had never seen and Sophie wanted to be the one to conduct them.

“Ben…” she gasped desperately, then corrected herself. “Benedict, please let me finish you.”

He stuttered and dropped his hand so that both arms framed her face, eyes searing through her. “Always call me that. Always call me Ben when we’re alone together.”

Sophie’s heart leapt, then he devoured her in a kiss, tongue probing to the back of her throat. She felt him pull her hand back to wrap around his cock. She tugged tight and quick as he had shown her. He moaned into her mouth and she allowed herself a proud grin. She bounced herself faster against his thigh, feeling the knot in her stomach grow more taught and the wave begin to build under her skin.

Their kisses grew sloppy, lips smearing across each other’s faces while they emitted a whole array of sinful noises. Benedict’s fingers found their way between Sophie’s legs and circled rapidly, taking her that much closer to the edge as she continued to grind against his muscle. They each had the other in hand, taking each other higher and higher, their breaths growing shallow, their movements falling out of rhythm as they increased in speed.

Benedict broke their kiss to whisper against her lips. “You never answered my question. Can I come on you? I’m close Sophie, so close.”

“Yes,” she mewled, completely lost to a world of sensation. Everything was the heat of him, the length of him, the pressure of him. The dance of his fingers, the press of his lips, the sound of his breath, the scent of his skin. “Please Ben, please come on me. I’ll come too. Ben, please.”

In only a moment he erupted with a cry, tearing his hand away to steady himself as he pulsed in her grasp, hot ropes of his seed shooting across her torso. Sophie stopped stroking but held him tightly as he came, fascinated at the feeling of his strong throbs within her fingers. She watched him above her, thrilled to see the contortions of desperate pleasure play across his face. In this moment, he was both dominating her and at her mercy simultaneously. She wanted to do this to him, to see him like this again. Frequently.

As he moaned and fought for breath, she continued pushing herself against his thigh. The strangely delightful possessiveness of his release splattering across her chest drove her to absolute madness and she broke, throbbing tight against him. This pinnacle was gentler but deeper somehow, reverberating through her bones as every muscle shivered and relaxed, washing her with calm but not stealing her mind away entirely.

They trembled in place together, the room filled only with the sounds of their gasps. Benedict was nearly in pain at the intensity of his climax and he found himself shaking as he fell to lie next to Sophie.

She lay in a daze, unable to lift her head from the pillows and only half-aware of her surroundings. Benedict pulled a cloth from somewhere and cleaned her, gently wiping away his mess and leaving kisses on her breasts. Then he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to his side.

“Please don’t leave, Sophie,” he mumbled into her hair, drinking in her scent as he felt sleep start to overtake him. “Please stay with me.”

She laid in his arms, overwhelmed. He wasn’t asking her to be his mistress, not really. He was asking her simply to stay. To stay at Aubrey Hall and be with him. Be with him in whatever fashion this was. And whatever this was, was more pleasure and fulfillment than she had experienced in the whole of her wretched life. The last thing she wanted to do was walk away. Even if she couldn’t have him for a lifetime, she could have him now. She hoped the acceptance letter from the Stirling household would never come, and if it did, she would respond and decline.

Benedict’s large hands upon her, the whole of his naked body pressed against hers, the gentle thrum of his heart against her back, all of it made her choice very clear. She would stay at Aubrey Hall and worry about her future and inevitable broken heart later.

“I will.”

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