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Benedict tossed his weekend duffel onto his brother’s couch and did a series of quick stretches, lifting his arms above his head and bending right to left, then side to side. The ride between the RCA and Oxford theoretically wasn’t terrible, but there had been traffic and he’d felt weirdly scrunched up in his car and was grateful for the chance to stretch a bit.
He was early; Anthony had texted that he wouldn’t be back to his flat till close to five, and it was only now three. But his last class of the day had been cancelled, so he’d thought he’d get a leg up on weekend traffic (ha ha) and leave immediately. His brother lived alone, after all, and he knew where the spare key was hidden. Anthony wasn’t going to care. In fact, he might appreciate it, considering that he was likely to need some extra moral support for tonight.
Speaking of. Benedict unzipped his duffel and retrieved the little heart-shaped velvet box. He opened it to double-check, make sure that the ring was still there and he hadn’t managed to lose it somewhere between his university and his brother’s.
But no. The pretty pearl ring that their father had commissioned for their mother was still there, dainty and ready to be worn by his brother’s brand-new fiancée.
He shut the box and set it carefully down on the counter. Definitely not his style, nothing he would’ve chosen, but then, he wasn’t the one proposing.
Nor would he ever. He grimaced and checked his phone, glad to see that Tilley had finally stopped texting. She was a nice girl, but she wanted more than he was willing to give and he’d finally had to be pretty frank with her. He’d felt bad about it, and it had sucked when she’d cried, but at least it was over.
No. Marriage and commitment weren’t his style. He was a libertine. A free spirit. A lover of pleasure, untrammeled by mere convention or the expectations of society –
“Oh!”
The voice was behind him. Soft. Decidedly feminine.
It suddenly occurred to Benedict that, if his brother was proposing tonight, his girl might live with him, and she might not be expecting him so early.
He turned around, charming smile in place, ready to apologize and win over his soon-to-be-sister.
And was struck utterly dumb.
Standing in the hallway was the most beautiful girl that Benedict had ever seen.
She was wearing one of Ant’s old rugby shirts and a pair of sinfully tiny shorts, and her hair was mussed like she’d been rolling around in her sheets, and none of it mattered because she’d just walked out of his brother’s bedroom.
This was her. His girlfriend. Fiancée, or at least she would be, by the end of the night. Love of Ant’s life.
For a second, he contemplated grabbing the ring and swallowing it. No ring, no engagement, right?
“Hi,” he said finally.
She was looking at him strangely, which made sense, because he probably looked like an idiot. But he couldn’t help it; he couldn’t stop staring. She was so pretty, with those gorgeous dark eyes and fairy-like delicate features and high cheekbones, and that long dark hair that needed his fingers running through it and God he needed to stop.
Right now.
“I’m Benedict,” he said.
She blinked. “Oh,” she said. “You’re Anthony’s brother.” He nodded like a dumbass. “I thought you weren’t getting here till later.”
“Yeah, but I had a class – or, it was cancelled,” he said. “I think that my professor might’ve done some really strong high quality LSD last night, to open his mind or something, and…” Her eyebrows were going higher and higher, so he probably shouldn’t tell her that he’d been the one to supply the really strong high quality LSD.
Well, it had been confiscated, really. So it was his professor’s fault for deciding to take it. Benedict had warned him that it would make him hear colors, but he hadn’t listened.
“So, yeah. I’m here early.” He laughed, and it sounded stupid and forced and was her bellybutton pierced?
“Okay,” she said. “Do you want something to drink?”
Desperately. “Sure,” he said, and followed her into the kitchen, eyes on the sway of her hips, her sweet little ass. She’d cropped Ant’s shirt to fall just under her tits (and his brother had to be in love love to have allowed her to do that), which gave him a great view of the little dimples at the base of her spine.
He needed to stop thinking about that. Already his cock was twitching, trying to come to life, and he couldn’t have sexy thoughts about Anthony’s fiancée.
Well. They weren’t engaged yet, right? She could still say no.
Stop it, he told himself as she opened the fridge and pulled out a pitcher that sadly appeared to be water. You’re Benedict Bridgerton. You run through lovers like tissue paper. No one holds your attention for longer than a couple of weeks. You can master this.
“I don’t know why he stores all his glasses up so high,” Anthony’s not-fiancée said, and stood on her tiptoes to grab a couple from a top shelf, and he bit his tongue when he was flashed a bit of underboob.
No. He couldn’t master this. She was so pretty that it had broken something his brain, and he really, really needed that tit in his mouth. Or his hand. Or maybe he just needed those pretty tits pressed up against his cock while he –
“Are you all right?”
He blinked and realized she was standing in front of him, holding out a glass of water.
It took him three tries to get his voice to work, which was good, because he needed that time to remind himself that he wasn’t living in one of his dad’s old Penthouse magazines.
“Yeah,” he croaked, and took the glass from her. His fingers brushed against hers, and a shock went through him.
She looked startled, and she’d felt it too, she had to have.
“So, uh…I feel dumb, but what’s your name? I know Ant mentioned it, but I can’t remember,” he said.
She frowned at him, and he hoped she wasn’t too offended. He didn’t want to get into how Anthony had found out about him getting accepted into the RCA and not finishing his accounting degree and joining the family business like they’d planned, which had become what Eloise still called the Bank Holiday Blowup, and had resulted in the brothers’ estrangement for the better part of the past two years. It had only been in the last couple of months that they’d been trying to put it behind them and rebuild their relationship, and he was really only there because his mother had asked him to take the ring. Why she had wanted him to do that rather than come herself and record Anthony’s proposal for posterity he had no idea.
So Benedict knew next to nothing about his brother’s life, including his not-fiancée’s name.
Well. Presumably Anthony had told him at some point. But he was drawing a total and complete blank.
“I’m Sophie,” she said, and her smile was so sweet.
“I’m Benedict,” he said, and she giggled.
“You said that already,” she said.
“Right. Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tick he’d never been able to train himself out of. “Do you know when Anthony’s going to be back?” he asked.
“Probably five,” she said. “Maybe a little after. He had rugby practice, I think.”
“Oh, okay,” he said, and took a long drink of his water. Two hours alone with Sophie? His brain was concocting scenarios at the speed of light, mostly of him bending her over the counter or the back of the couch and playing with those pretty little tits until she –
“So why don’t we sit down and you can tell me about yourself,” she said.
He blinked, a little dazed, and followed her back to the living room, eyes still riveted on those little dimples.
Maybe she was an idiot. Maybe he’d talk to her for a few minutes and realize she was too dumb to hold a conversation, and that would cure his lust.
Maybe.
*
An hour later, Benedict had learned that Sophie was, of all things, studying aerospace engineering and physics on a fucking merit scholarship, and that she wanted to build space rockets and maybe also fly them too, and her ultimate dream was to convince the UK government that an actual space program was a viable and important thing to have.
“I mean, there’s always NASA,” she’d said. “Or maybe SpaceX, but only if Elon gets out of there. I’m definitely not manning anything that blows up in atmosphere. Quality control should be a priority, don’t you think?”
Fuck, she was so smart. And so, so hot. Anthony was going to marry a literal goddamned rocket scientist who had the perkiest tits in the world and a pierced bellybutton.
It just wasn’t fair.
Well. She had told him that she didn’t like modern art, and that her favorite poem was She Walks in Beauty. But no one was perfect, he reasoned. He could teach her to appreciate modern art, and he could probably deal with her liking shitty poetry.
She’d also somewhat shyly revealed that Anthony had actually given her one of his sketches, had framed it for her birthday because she’d liked it so much. And he’d been flattered, but he’d also barely paid attention and had no idea which sketch she’d liked so much, because he’d been too mesmerized by her mouth.
He was pretty sure he saw a tongue ring. He’d never dated anyone with a tongue ring before. He wondered how she felt about dick piercings. Because he had a Prince Albert and a pubic piercing, and he bet she’d appreciate them both.
She nudged him with her foot. “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked.
He’d been staring again. It was hard not to; he was just a mere mortal, sitting before a goddess. What else was he supposed to do?
“I’m good,” he muttered. He looked down at where her foot rested, just a few inches away from his thigh. Her toenails were pale, glittery purple.
Her feet were just as pretty as the rest of her. Dainty and soft and he kind of wanted to suck on her toes.
Was that weird?
“So what about your family?” he blurted out to block the image of himself, kneeling in front of her, foot at eye level as he grasped her pretty little foot and took her toes into his mouth.
Yeah, it was weird.
And yet.
Her eyes widened. “My what? Why?”
“Well, you know…” He trailed off. Obviously she wouldn’t know why he’d think they’d be here tonight. Ant would want it to be a surprise. He’d said it was a surprise. “Do you have one?” he asked weakly.
“Um…I mean, I’ve lived with Kate and Edwina since I was about fifteen,” she said. He didn’t know who those people were, but she seemed to expect him to, so he just nodded. “So they’re basically my family. I don’t…” She trailed off. “I have a stepsister I keep in touch with. But the rest of them are pretty…” She shook her head, and he saw, with no small amount of horror, tears glittering in her eyes.
Fuck, he’d really messed up. She looked so sad and vulnerable, and maybe he should give her a hug? Maybe she’d like a big strong Benedict that she could hold on to while she cried? And then maybe she’d like it if he pushed her down against the couch cushions and hiked up that little shirt while he rolled his hips against her and down, boy.
Too late. His cock was so hard it was uncomfortable, so he shifted slightly on the couch, hoping to discreetly relieve the pressure.
“I’m sorry for bringing that up,” he said.
“No, it’s okay,” she said. “It’s just…it’s been a lot, the last couple of weeks. You know.”
“Sure,” he said, but again, he had no idea. She was talking again, but his thoughts kept drifting because his cock was actually really uncomfortable, and he was trying to figure out how to handle that situation without looking like a creep.
Then, like the universe had heard his plea, the door opened and Anthony burst inside, and Benedict’s boner wilted.
“Hey,” he said, and scooted a little further away from Sophie. What was the appropriate distance to sit away from your recently reconciled brother’s soon-to-be fiancée after you’d fantasized about fucking her against his couch? Benedict wasn’t sure, but it was probably more than twelve inches.
“You’re early,” Anthony said. He dropped his gear bag by the door, and Sophie stood up and crossed her arms under her amazing tits.
“I’m not cleaning that up for you,” she said. “You can deal with it tonight, or you can deal with it tomorrow when it stinks.” She eyed it dubiously. “Even worse. Up to you.”
Anthony rolled his eyes, but dutifully picked up his bag. He approached Sophie, and Benedict was going to throw that goddamned ring into the garbage disposal, family heirloom or no, if he kissed her in front of him.
He didn’t, though. Instead, he did something almost worse.
“You doing okay tonight?” he asked, his voice softer and more gentle than Benedict had ever heard it.
“You worry too much,” Sophie said, her voice also soft. “I’m fine.” She suddenly sent Benedict a brilliant smile. “Benny and I have been getting to know each other.”
“Have you.” Anthony shot him a strange look, and Benedict managed to smile and nod in a way he thought probably looked pretty normal.
No one had ever called him Benny before. At least not since he was a kid. He sort of liked it, at least coming from her.
“And I guess I should probably go and get ready,” she said, and Benedict suffered physical pain when he watched her tits bounce in that tiny shirt as she hurried back down the hall.
“Did you bring it?”
Anthony’s voice brought Benedict out of his trance. “What?”
"The ring,” Anthony said, making no effort to keep his voice down. “You brought it, right?”
For a second he was going to say no, but then his brother caught sight of the box and swiped it off the counter. He opened it and smiled down at the ring.
That ring was totally wrong for Sophie. He should say something. Mum had tons of rings, she was always trying to get them to pick which ones they’d want to give to their future wives. Anthony should go to Aubrey Hall himself and pick one out. Try them all out. Learn their stories. No matter how long it took.
“Perfect,” Anthony said. “Thanks for this, brother. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Benedict nodded. “Happy to help,” he said.
He could bury all of this. He could. He loved his brother, and he’d just gotten him back, too. Anthony had been his best friend since he’d been born, one of the only real constants in his life. What Benedict felt for Sophie was a passing thing, just some random lust because she was pretty and perfect and it had been a week since he’d last gotten laid. He could ignore it for the weekend and then, once he was back at his own university, he would bury it in sex and maybe see if Henry had any more of that super potent high quality LSD. Maybe channel his heartbreak into his art. Maybe have a breakthrough, or possibly send Sophie his own cut-off ear, a la Van Gogh.
Everything was going to be fine.
An hour and a half later, he and Anthony were waiting in the living room, and Anthony was fidgeting and checking his watch. “We needed to leave, like, five minutes ago,” he muttered.
“Maybe you should go check on her,” Benedict offered. Or maybe Benedict could go check and see how she was doing, could push her up against a wall and finger her until she forgot Anthony’s name and –
“What do you guys think?”
They both looked up to see Sophie emerge from the hallway, this time in what had to be the skimpiest, sparkliest silver dress Benedict had ever seen in his life. It ended somewhere around mid-thigh and was cut so low that he could practically see her bellybutton ring. And when she twirled, he saw that the back was basically nonexistent, and he could still see those dimples.
His cock immediately came to attention.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” Anthony asked her, because Benedict’s mouth had gone desert-dry as he’d envisioned pushing her up against a wall, pushing that tiny skirt up, and sliding inside of her. It would be so easy. So fucking easy.
“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” he mumbled. Anthony shot him a baffled look, then turned back to Sophie.
“What’s wrong with it?” Sophie asked. Anthony’s eyes widened as if he’d just realized he’d said the wrong thing.
“I mean, you might get…cold,” he said. “It’s a rooftop bar. You could grab a sweater or something.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she said. “Oh, but I forgot my bag. Give me a sec.” She hurried back down the hall. “I’ll be right back!”
They were both quiet for a second.
“Okay,” Anthony said as he turned to him, his expression not unlike a military general sending one of his commanders off to battle. “I need you to watch her tonight, yeah? Just…make sure she’s safe. Don’t let her out of your sight, and don’t let her have more than two drinks.”
“Sure thing,” Benedict said, already dying inside.
It was going to be a very long night.
*
It was worse than he could have envisioned.
Anthony had vanished almost as soon as they’d gotten to their destination, some trendy place called Mondrich’s where he seemed to know everyone.
Sophie had seemed a little nervous about all the people, though, because she stuck to his side like glue. But that was good, because if one more jackass tried to get her attention and pull her away from him Benedict was going to snap and start murdering people.
Like that asshole sitting at the bar, who was clearly ogling her tits. Benedict glared and pulled her a little closer, and she smiled brilliantly up at him and snuggled into his arms and fuck she just felt so right against him.
He’d been good. He’d been so good. He’d kept his word to his brother. He’d fetched her a couple of drinks – always making sure she had a glass of water in between – and kept her away from any unsavory types.
Even when she’d huddled up against him, claiming to be cold. When she’d pressed those glossy pink lips against his neck and mumbled something about him smelling really good.
Look. He was only human, after all. He was doing his best, really he was, but it wasn’t his fault that she was trying to climb him like he was a tree, or that she smelled like sexy vanilla frosting, or that she obviously hadn’t worn a bra and he could feel the hard little points of her nipples pressed against him.
“You’re really cute,” she whispered, and he couldn’t peel her off of him because her hand had worked its way under his shirt and was exploring.
He couldn’t do this. He had to find Anthony. He couldn’t let his brother propose to her. They clearly didn’t belong together, and they obviously wouldn’t make each other happy. Anthony was too serious. Sophie needed…freedom. Laughter. Lightness of spirit. She needed a carefree artist who was happy to let her grope and manhandle him as much as she wanted.
Really. Would Anthony let Sophie grope him like this in public? No. He wouldn’t. He’d probably give her a lecture on propriety and expectations, or something boring like that.
“Where did Anthony go?” he managed to ask.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Does it matter?” Her hand had found its way to his happy trail and she scratched her fingernails through it. He grunted and slapped a hand back against the wall to keep upright.
He was going to fuck her. At this point it was an inevitability. He was going to fuck his brother’s not-fiancée, and then he was going to marry her, and then he would figure out how to salvage his relationship with his brother.
“I love my brother,” he managed to say. She giggled in his ear.
“Me too,” she whispered. “He’s so nice.”
Anthony? Nice?
“Benny, you’re so warm,” she whispered in his ear. His cock, if possible, hardened even further. Her hand crept to the waistband of his jeans. He grunted and his hips snapped forward involuntarily, and he felt her smile against his neck.
He was going to come in his pants.
“Can I have everyone’s attention?”
The moment had arrived. The music had stopped, and Anthony stood on the stage, beaming, eyes searching through the crowd. He tried desperately to untangle himself from Sophie, but she held on like a baby koala.
“Benny,” she breathed. Now her lips were against his ear, and her hand plunged into his pants, and he hadn’t worn boxers so her sweet, seeking little fingers were inches from his naked cock. His head knocked back against the wall and he groaned again. He needed her fingers around his cock more than he needed anything at all. Even air. “Please, Benny, can you keep me warm?”
He was going to die tonight. Anthony was going to murder him, and he was going to die before he’d even gotten to hear the sounds Sophie made when she came.
An injustice. A Shakespearean tragedy.
“Baby,” he whispered. “Just a sec, baby – ”
Maybe he could still somehow salvage this. Maybe he could cause a distraction, like jump off the building? But no; they were too high up. It would result in his death, which was counter-productive to getting Sophie into his bed.
He wasn’t sure if he was pleased or upset that she suddenly seemed to realize what was going on, and pulled her hand out of his jeans and focused on the stage. “Oh,” she said. “He’s really gonna do it, then? I thought he’d chicken out at the last minute. Now I’m gonna owe Edwina twenty quid.”
What was his life, Benedict wondered. Sophie was still pressed up against him, but Anthony apparently hadn’t found them in the crowd. He was still beaming, though, and babbling like an idiot, something about a dog and a lake and a gazebo, and knowing it was true love.
“So there’s just one thing left for me to ask,” Anthony said, and pulled the ring box out of his pocket. “Kathani Sharma, will you make me the happiest man in the world and do me the honor of agreeing to be my wife?”
Benedict’s jaw dropped. He watched, dumbfounded, as a gorgeous girl who was definitely not Sophie approached his brother to the sounds of catcalls and cheers. She had a huge smile on her face as Anthony went down on his knee before her and held up the ring box.
He watched the girl – Kathani – take the box and examine the ring. Anthony went to stand up, but she shook her head and pointed to the ground, and he stayed kneeling. There was more laughter, and someone yelled something that Benedict couldn’t hear over the rushing in his ears.
“What?” he demanded of no one at all, just as Kathani smiled and nodded, and Anthony grabbed the ring box back. Beside him, Sophie whistled and clapped when Anthony put the ring on Kathani’s finger, and then drew her in for a kiss that was decidedly not appropriate for prime time.
Not that Benedict had any ground to stand on where that was concerned.
Speaking of.
“He didn’t propose to you,” he said, and turned back to Sophie.
She frowned. “Why would he – ”
He didn’t let her finish; he grabbed her and kissed her with all the passion he’d been restraining for the last several hours. And thank God, she kissed him back, buried her hands in his hair as he dragged her up against him and started a slow roll of his hips, let her feel exactly what she’d done to him over the course of the evening. Her skirt was somewhere around her upper thighs and he was leaking and making a mess of his jeans, but Sophie was kissing him back and it was allowed, he got to keep both his brother and his girl and he hadn’t even needed to jump off the roof to do it.
Fuck. She was humping his thigh, rubbing herself against him and all he could do was hunch over her, make sure that no one could see her in this dark little corner of the bar. She whined against his ear in frustration, and he really, really wanted to help her, but they were toeing the line and the responsible thing to do would be to stop her and take her back to Anthony’s flat.
Or just book a room at the hotel this bar sat on top of. Really, it would be faster. And he didn’t think they’d make it any further.
“Jesus Christ,” a woman’s voice said, and they both looked up to find Anthony and Kathani standing in front of them. Sophie jumped away from him, and he awkwardly leaned back against the wall and hoped it was dark enough that they couldn’t see his boner. “Do you have no shame?”
“Oh my God, congrats you guys,” Sophie squealed. She pulled away from him and threw her arms around Kathani, who hugged her and also tugged down her skirt while throwing Benedict a stern look.
“Congratulations,” Benedict said, and shook his brother’s hand.
“Thanks,” Anthony said. His eyes went from Benedict to Sophie, and then back to Benedict, and narrowed. “Maybe we should – ”
“Nope,” Kathani said, and let go of Sophie, pushed her back toward Benedict. “They’re obviously perfect for each other. Leave them be, Anthony.” And Benedict was about to tell her that she was his new favorite sister when she pointed a finger at him.
“Hurt her and you’ll be answering to me,” she said calmly, and Benedict swallowed hard.
“Understood,” he said, and she smiled, but it was a sort of scary smile.
“Good,” she said. “Have fun!” And she pulled Anthony away to meet another crowd of well-wishers. Benedict watched them for a minute, long enough to be sure they wouldn’t be coming back, and then turned to Sophie and pulled her against him.
“Where were we?” he murmured
“Wait,” she said, and pushed him back. “You really thought Anthony and I were dating?”
*
Thankfully, she’d found it funny rather than infuriating, and she’d laughed for a good five minutes while he’d made the room reservation on his phone.
“You thought we were dating,” she giggled when he shoved his phone back into his pocket.
“In my defense, you came out of his bedroom wearing his clothing,” Benedict said.
“What? No, I didn’t,” she said. “Do you think your brother wears booty shorts?”
Well, that was a cursed image if ever there was one. “Wasn’t that his rugby shirt?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “It was mine. And it’s not rugby, it’s roller derby.”
He stared at her for a minute. “Fuck, I didn’t think you could get hotter,” he said, and grabbed for her.
“So wait,” she said after she let him kiss her. “You were trying to be a gentleman? And I was just the horny little ho shooting her shot?” She laughed again.
“Again, in my defense, you came out of my brother’s bedroom,” he said.
She smacked his shoulder. “There’s more than one bedroom, Benny,” she said.
He frowned. “There is?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Anthony was nice enough to let me crash there for a few days after my stepmother basically evicted me.”
Benedict’s eyes widened. “She did what?” he demanded.
“I told you,” she said.
“When?” This was the first he’d heard of it. Though it did probably explain why Anthony had been so weird and gentle with her.
“When we were sitting on the couch, earlier,” she said. “Before Anthony got back. The lawsuit about the house, and how her appealing meant I had to move out till it was all settled?”
“Oh.” He wondered if that was when he’d seen her tongue ring, or maybe when he’d fantasized about sucking on her toes.
“You know what? We really need to have sex,” he said. “I think once we have sex, I’ll be able to listen to you when you tell me stuff.”
She laughed again, and he managed to keep his hands off of her long enough to go through the check in process, and get on the elevator.
For the record, she pounced on him. She pushed him against the back of the elevator and started to devour his mouth, and they were both very lucky that the elevator didn’t stop till it got to their floor.
They managed to get themselves out of the elevator and, after three false starts, found the right room. Sophie had her hand shoved into his pants and had grabbed his dick while he fumbled with the key card. He cursed and dropped it, and she giggled.
“Joke’s on you, I’m perfectly happy to fuck you against this door,” he growled, and finally, finally, they managed to get inside and slam the door shut.
“Fuck, I’m gonna marry you,” he said between kisses as she pulled his shirt off. “I wanna make super smart babies with you.”
“How will they be super smart if their father only has one brain cell?” she asked.
“You’ll make up for it,” he said. He fiddled with the fastening of her dress. For a skimpy piece of fabric, it seemed impossible to get off. “Is this dress expensive or important?” he asked.
"No,” she said, and he shredded the fabric and pulled it off of her.
“Wow,” she said as the remains of her clothing fluttered to the floor.
“Too much?” he asked. “I just really, really want to fuck you.”
“No. Just enough. You’re really strong,” she said, and then shoved him back, and he landed on the bed with a naked Sophie atop him. They rolled a couple of times, and she wrestled with the fastenings of his jeans until they finally came free. She jerked them down off his hips and he watched with no small amount of pride how her eyes widened at the sight of him.
He liked to think of himself as proportionate, but that was because he could be modest. He’d had enough sex with enough men to know he was more than well-endowed.
“Oh,” she said, and when she looked at him, there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.
He kissed her, quick. “It’ll fit,” he said.
“I’ve taken human anatomy classes. I know it’ll fit,” she said. “I just don’t know if it’ll be comfortable.”
He grinned. “Is that a challenge?” he asked.
“If you’re up for it,” she said.
“Oh, I think I’m very up for it,” he said, and leered at her, and she threw her head back and laughed. He rolled them back toward the middle of the bed so that she was on top of him again, and dragged his fingers up her thighs and met her sweet, wet heat. He growled and plunged his fingers inside of her, and she moaned.
“Come closer,” he rasped. She braced a hand against his chest and looked down at him, and he shifted her up higher on his torso. Her eyes lit up when she realized what he wanted.
“Really?” she asked.
“Please,” he said. His voice didn’t sound like his own; it was raw, scraped out of his throat. “Sit on my face, baby.”
She moved too slowly for him, so he scooped her up and expertly settled her right where he wanted her, made sure that she had a good grip on the headboard. Her other hand, she buried in his hair. Her grip was tight and she pulled a little and he could smell her arousal and God, this had to be what heaven was like. She braced herself on her knees, and he used his hands to press her thighs a little further apart, and then slid them around to cup her perky little ass.
He looked up at her, and found her looking down at him. She smiled, and he pressed a gentle kiss against her inner thigh. The hand that was gripping his hair tightened, sending chills coursing through his entire body.
“Ready for me to rock your world?” he asked.
Her laughter dissolved into a moan when he licked a long, slow stripe up her seam, lingering just beneath her clit. Her thigh muscles tensed, and he traced a very slow circle around her clit.
“Oh,” she breathed. She trembled as he lapped through her seam, alternating hard and gentle pressure, and grinned to himself when he felt her hips start to move.
“Proud of yourself, are you,” she said breathily.
“Mmm, very.” She shuddered a bit, and he thrust his tongue inside of her. He used his fingers to seek her sweet spot, and strummed his thumb against her clit over and over until she was whimpering and dripping all over him.
Fuck, she was clenching around his tongue, and he was going to come untouched. His hips moved, trying to get some friction. He grunted, and then he hummed, and she cried out as she threw her head back and her hips stuttered, and she drenched his mouth and chin.
She collapsed, and if he ended up suffocating between her thighs at least he’d die a happy man.
“Wow,” she whispered, and somewhat shakily dismounted from him and collapsed beside him on the bed. He reached over and pulled her limp body close to his. She smiled lazily at him, and as hard as he was, he sort of wanted to just lie there and look at her for a few minutes.
Eventually, though, she seemed to get a little restless, and her smile turned a little wicked.
“I’ve been selfish,” she said. “Letting you give and not giving in return.”
“You were trying to give plenty back at the bar,” he said, and she laughed again.
“You’re never going to live that down,” she said, and something inside of him set alight at that, the idea that something never happening to them was a possibility, because it implied they would be together long enough that it wouldn’t. That they could speak in those sorts of absolutes.
She shifted so that she was on top of him, and undulated her body, rubbing her wet center up and down his cock. He groaned and his hips bucked, nearly sending her off of him, and they both laughed, and had sex ever been this easy?
Benedict had had a lot of sex in his life. And he’d enjoyed it, but he couldn’t recall ever having this easy intimacy with a partner.
“Condom, Benny?” she breathed.
He scrambled for his discarded jeans and found his wallet, and then managed to get the condom tucked in his billfold out without ripping it. She took it from him and his eyes rolled back when she gave him a good hard stroke and traced over his piercing.
“It’s not going to rip the condom, is it?” she asked.
“Nope,” said.
“I’ve never had sex with a guy who had piercings,” she said almost absently, and continued to play with it until he was a squirming, panting mess.
“Sophie,” he said. “Please stop.” It took monumental effort, but he pulled her hand away from him, and she looked at him questioningly. “I’m really, really turned on, and if you keep doing that…”
“Oh,” she said with a grin. “Well. I’d hate to miss out on all the fun.”
Once his breathing had evened out a bit and he didn’t think he’d shoot off like a rocket at her touch, he let her roll the condom onto his cock.
“Sophie,” he whispered. “Sophie, please.” The feel of her hand on him made his head swim, and pretty soon he was going to take matters into his own hands, throw her down on the bed, and fuck into her as hard as he could.
They ended up with him sitting up against the headboard, and her in his lap, and they both gasped when she began to lower herself down on him. His head knocked back against the headboard and he felt her fingers dig into his shoulders.
Her hips rolled as she pushed herself down on him, her breaths long and hard. “Oh, I was right,” she managed. “It hurts a little, but it’s so good. This is so good.”
“So fucking good, baby,” he mumbled against the hollow of her throat. She was so tight, so silky warm. For a second, he wanted to pull out and peel off the condom, because he thought feeling her bare was likely going to be the greatest event of his life.
But no. He could be patient. They’d get there, eventually.
She moaned again when she finally took all of him in. “You’re so deep, Benny,” she breathed.
"You feel so good, baby,” he managed. He put his hands on her hips and adjusted her slightly, smirked when her eyes widened as her clit pressed against his pubic piercing. He gently rolled his hips and watched as disbelief dissolved into desperate pleasure.
“Oh, my God,” she whimpered. Her body shuddered against his, clamped down hard as he continued to expertly rub her up against his piercing until she whined and clutched his shoulders, buried her face against his neck and sobbed out her release.
Fuck, it felt good, her fast, quick breaths against his neck, hot and then cool, the slide of their bodies together. He’d pleasured her so well that he could feel her release dripping down his balls and onto the sheets beneath them.
He needed to come. He could feel it building, the burn in his belly. His balls had drawn up, tight as hell and almost painful, when she finally came back to herself and looked at him.
“That was incredible,” she whispered.
He grinned despite the extreme agony he was in. “It’s not over yet,” he said.
She looked confused for a second, and then he felt her inner muscles clench on him and he groaned. “How are you still so – ”
He kissed her and thanked God for all the experience he’d had over the last several years. It was clear now that he hadn’t been being fickle, he hadn’t just been whoring around various places in London. No, he’d been gaining the knowledge he needed to ensure he could pleasure his woman the best way he could.
He drew back and looked into her eyes. “Ready?” he whispered, and his voice sounded dark and raspy to his ears. She bit her lip and nodded, so he grasped her hips and began to thrust.
He’d wanted it to be sweet, but God, he couldn’t stop the frenzied motion of his body, thrusting hard up into her as he held her gaze. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her as close as he could, and she leaned her forehead against his as they panted into each other’s mouths.
Yeah, this wasn’t just sex. This was soul-deep connection, and it scared him a little bit.
He’d never had a real relationship before, at least not one that had lasted longer than a few weeks, and he was pretty sure that didn’t count. He’d never wanted one. What if he failed her? What if she didn’t feel it, and didn’t want him the way he wanted her? He could try, but he didn’t think he could do casual with her. Just the thought of someone else touching her tormented his soul.
Her hand cupped his cheek. “Hey,” she said softly. “Where did you go?”
He focused slowly on those gorgeous eyes. “Nowhere,” he murmured. He kissed her again and felt her thighs tighten around his hips, and knew that he couldn’t fail her, he wouldn’t, because he doubted he’d survive losing her.
She took charge, then, began to raise herself up and drop back down on him, moaning in his ear, hands roaming across his shoulders and down his back. “You feel so good,” she whispered. “I really hoped we’d get to do this tonight.”
“Sophie,” he moaned. He grunted when one of her hands reached down and cupped his balls, body jerking involuntarily. She giggled and he felt her clenching against him, and he needed her to come again so that he could finally let himself go.
He was groaning and his thrusts became sloppy. She was starting to clench hard around him, her cunt fluttering in a staccato rhythm, and he snaked a hand between their bodies so he could rub her clit. “Ben,” she whimpered brokenly. “Ben, yes – ”
He wasn’t sure if it was the sound of his name on her lips, or the way her body clamped down hard on him as she came again, that set him off. All he knew was that static crackled up his spine, his hands gripped her hips and snapped her in place against him, and he came so hard that he blacked out for a minute.
It was like nothing he’d ever experienced. All the sex he’d had before, the drugs to help expand his mind and see things from a different light and perspective, none of it compared.
Sophie was everything, and he was already addicted to her.
She mumbled something against his throat and he tightened his arms around her. When she moved, he felt himself start to slip out of her and was irrationally annoyed at that. He grumbled a little to himself when he was forced to leave her arms to dispose of the condom. He wanted to stay inside of her forever, to become one with her so they’d never be parted again.
With those thoughts, it was almost scary to meet her eyes when he rejoined her in bed, wondering what he’d find there. She was already it for him, and if she didn’t feel the same he wasn’t sure what he would do.
But her expression was sweet and almost shy, a little uncertain. “I’ve never – ”
He silenced her with a kiss. “Neither have I,” he said. “That was…”
She nodded. “It’s never been like that before,” she said.
“For me either,” he said. He pulled her closer and laid back, and she draped her body halfway over his and laid her head against his chest. I think I’m falling in love with you, he thought but didn’t say, because it was crazy to think that after such a short period of time, wasn’t it?
“So,” she mumbled after a few minutes. “You live in London.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s not that far, though.” He felt her pout against his chest and smiled. “We’ll figure it out.”
She looked up at him suspiciously. “Isn’t that something that fuckboys say?”
“Oh, I’m not above tossing you over my shoulder and taking you back with me, like a caveman,” he said. She snorted a laugh, and it was so fucking charming.
“A caveman?” she asked.
“Whatever,” he said. “Just…you know. You’re mine. I’m yours. I can go wherever you go. I’ll be your arm candy at all those super smart people events. The eccentric artist to your super hot scientist.”
“Good,” she mumbled. They twisted a little under the covers, Benedict pulling her closer to make sure she was warm enough. She snuggled close and he felt her smile against the side of his neck. “I like you so much, Benny,” she whispered. “I can’t wait to have dumb artistic babies with you.”
He smiled and his heart turned over, and he stroked his hand through her hair for a few minutes.
“So what exactly is your deal with my brother?” he finally asked. “You swear you never…?”
“Oh, God, no,” she said, and looked appalled. “I met him when he started seeing Kate. He said he thinks of me like one of your little sisters.”
Benedict stared as the implication sank in. “Shit,” he said. “He’s still gonna try and kill me for this, isn’t he?”
“Hmm, maybe,” she said. “Unless you do end up marrying me.”
“I’ll get you a way better ring,” he mumbled as he rolled her over and kissed her again.
*
All told, Benedict proposed to Sophie three times: the night they met, the morning after they met, and finally, on what was basically their three month anniversary, this time with a ring that had belonged to his great-grandmother, a ruby that he’d known instantly was the one for her.
She’d said yes all three times, and the only reason he’d waited three months to get the ring was that she’d insisted they not steal Kate and Anthony’s thunder.
Benedict had waited impatiently until after their engagement party, which Mum had held at Aubrey Hall and had included a whole weekend of activities. And when he’d told her the morning after what he wanted and why, she’d let out a shriek of joy so loud that Kate had teased that she and Anthony heard it in the car halfway back to Oxford.
It turned out that part of the reason that Mum had wanted him to deliver the ring had been because she’d met Sophie a few months before, on a trip up to visit Anthony and Kate, and had decided she was just what Benedict needed.
He’d have been offended, but it turned out his mother was right.
She planned their engagement party for September, three months after Kate and Anthony’s. It was a blur of champagne and laughter and many speeches teasing Benedict for his formerly whorish ways and rather famous ambivalence toward the idea of marriage in general. And as it wound down, he found himself outside with Sophie, Anthony, Kate, and Sophie’s stepsister Posy and her boyfriend Hugh. This was his first time meeting Hugh and the first time he’d spent much time at all with Posy, but he already could tell he was going to like them both a lot.
Sophie had finally won her lawsuit against her stepmother and got access back to the house her father had left her. Since Posy had just started her second year at Oxford, she’d moved into one of the other bedrooms, and Sophie had told him how nice it was to have the opportunity to really get to know her stepsister, without her stepmother and other stepsister around to try and ruin it.
He was half-listening to Posy describe her sister Rosamund’s reaction to learning about Sophie’s engagement when Sophie settled herself into his lap. He grinned and set his half-finished drink down to wrap both arms around her waist.
“Getting tired?” he murmured.
“A bit,” she said. “But we can stay a little longer.”
Benedict opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by his brother, who stood up and somewhat clumsily held up his glass.
“Speech,” he said, his voice a little slurred.
“Another, Anthony?” Kate asked. Anthony had given a rather long, surprisingly heartfelt speech right before dinner that had made Benedict’s eyes sting a little bit.
“Practicing for your role as best man?” Benedict teased.
“It’s not for you,” Anthony said. “This one is for Sophie.”
“Oh? I have to hear this,” she said, and sat up a bit straighter in his lap. Benedict grinned and shifted his weight slightly so she’d be more comfortable.
“Sophie,” Anthony said, and turned to Posy’s chair.
“Nope,” Posy said. Kate got up and shifted Anthony’s body so that he was facing Sophie.
“She’s the one with Benedict,” Kate said.
“I know that,” Anthony said, briefly indignant. He held his glass up, and sloshed a bit of liquid out of it. “Sophie,” he said again. “You were…the best roommate.”
“Thank you, Anthony,” Sophie said when it seemed that he would say no more.
“The best,” he repeated. “And the best…the best fake girlfriend, too.”
“Fake girlfriend?” Posy muttered.
“Oh my God,” Sophie whispered, and Benedict huffed a laugh. Anthony’s eyes widened with sincerity.
“I couldn’t marry you, because I love Kate,” he said. “I love her a lot.”
“Thank you, Anthony,” Kate said sarcastically, and he beamed at her.
“I love Sophie too, but not like I love Kate,” he continued. “I love Sophie like…a sister.”
“How much has he had to drink, do you think?” Benedict muttered to Sophie.
“Let him finish,” she said.
“And now you’re marrying my brother!” Anthony said with a huge grin. “So, I guess what I want to say is, if any man had to marry my fake girlfriend, I’m glad it’s my brother.” He thrust his glass up into the air, sloshing the remaining liquid inside down onto his head in his enthusiasm. “To Sophie. And Benedict.”
“To Sophie and Benedict,” Posy said solemnly, and she and Hugh held their glasses up high.
“Thank you, Anthony,” Sophie said. “That was beautiful.”
“Okay, drunky,” Kate said, her voice half-affectionate and half-irritated. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Anthony pouted. “But the gazebo is right over – ”
“Bed, my love,” Kate said pointedly, and started to lead him away.
“Do I want to know?” Benedict asked.
“Definitely not,” Sophie said, as Kate began to herd him back toward the house.
“He’s had way too much,” Kate said. “Earlier, he thought Edwina was me, and he tried to proposition her. I don’t think she’s yet recovered.”
Sophie laughed. “Good night, Anthony,” she said. But Anthony suddenly lurched forward and pressed a sloppy kiss against Benedict’s forehead.
“Hey!” Benedict jerked back. “What the hell was that for?”
“Love you, little brother,” Anthony said, and Kate finally succeeded in dragging him away.
“Ugh,” Benedict said, and wiped at his forehead. “Gross.”
“I think it’s sort of sweet,” Sophie said. “I’m glad you were able to patch things up with him.”
“Me too.” Benedict pressed a quick kiss against her neck and tugged her a little closer. “I wish someone had recorded that,” he said. “We could’ve played it at his wedding. Or graduation.”
“Maybe both,” Sophie said with a giggle.
“On it,” Posy said, and held up her phone. “Angle’s not great, but I got most of it. I just sent it to you.” Benedict felt his phone buzz in his pocket.
“Thank you,” he said.
“So,” Hugh said, and leaned forward in his chair a little bit. “How did you guys meet? I don’t think anyone’s ever told me.”
Sophie and Benedict looked at each other and smiled.
“Well, it’s kind of a funny story…”