Her Perfect Match (9 page)

She sighed as he stroked her entrance and the fluttering movements of her hands ceased.

“I have been ready for you since I first saw you in the bookstore,” she moaned as he breached her with one finger, two, three.

He blinked as an image filled his mind of throwing her against the bookshelf in the very proper shop and fucking her for all to see. The idea excited him and he drove into her harder, loving the flex of her sheath around his fingers as she gasped. He wanted that same flex about his cock, to make her come while he looked into her face in the increasing darkness of the carriage.

She seemed to read his thoughts, for she fumbled for his trouser buttons, unfastening them with little finesse. He lifted her when she was finished and his hard, ready cock bobbed free of the confines of his breeches. She moaned as he positioned her above him and then lowered herself, inch after wet, hot inch, over him.

She flexed as she took him inside, massaging him wickedly as her body stretched to accommodate his length. He had never been so pleased by a woman’s body, not before her nor since their last parting. And he had been punished greatly for that obsession. Even long after she was gone, in his every erotic dream, it was her pussy he took. Now, as he filled her, reality left those dreams far behind.

He flexed his hips to take the last inch of space within her and for a moment they sat perfectly still, staring at each other in the gathering darkness of dusk, panting with pleasure at the joining of their bodies.

He parted his lips to speak, but she didn’t allow it. She crushed her mouth to his and began to move over him, effectively silencing any words or even thoughts in his head with the sensations she created.

Even after all this time, Vivien knew what he liked. She moved quickly, rising over him with quick, strong thrusts. Her clitoris ground against his pelvis and he felt her twitch as she gasped at the feeling. He gripped her hips, digging his fingers into her flesh as he guided her harder, faster, out of control.

Finally the muscles in her neck strained and she cried out as release washed over her. Her pussy clenched with it, squeezing him, milking him until he could resist no longer. His seed rushed from him in a powerful explosion of pleasure and he roared with the sensation as he held to her so tight he feared he would steal her breath.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and they clung to each other for what seemed like a perfect eternity, but finally she drew away, gave him an awkward smile and moved to the opposite side of the carriage. He watched as she fixed herself, covering what he had revealed and taken pleasure in, smoothing wrinkles and tucking strands of hair away. Within a few moments, she looked as though nothing had happened.

Except for the twinkle of light in her eyes that said they shared a delicious secret.

He half-smiled as he refastened his trousers just as they turned into Vivien’s drive and the carriage came to a stop. The door opened and a footman appeared to help her down. She paused once she had reached the ground and the servant stepped away.

She looked at Benedict, her face unreadable as she looked up at him. For a moment, he thought she might ask him to come inside. To continue what had been begun in the carriage. But she shook her head and smiled instead.

“G-Good night,” she whispered.

He nodded. She was too hesitant to share more than what had been shared. He knew that about her before and it hadn’t changed now.

“Good night,” he said softly, but as she turned to enter her home, he called out. “Oh and, Vivien?”

Slowly, she pivoted to face him. “Yes?”

“I’m not selling the carriage. It has too many new memories now.” He smiled as he reached out to close the carriage door. The footman climbed up into his place and they pulled away, leaving Vivien gaping at him in her drive.

Benedict laughed as he settled back against the leather seats. At least he knew one thing—he could still stymie Vivien Manning. And that was a feat worth valuing indeed.

Chapter Eight

Derek arrived early, forcing Benedict from pleasant dreams of Vivien and the day…and night…they had shared. So when he entered the breakfast room, he could not spare his brother a smile, but instead glared at him before he took a plate and began dishing food from the trays on the sideboard.

“I didn’t expect you until at least luncheon,” he snapped. “I thought you could contain your disapproval until then.”

Derek rose from the position he had taken at the head of Benedict’s table and folded his arms. “Then you know why I am here.”

Benedict pivoted to face his brother. Derek was dressed impeccably, looking as if he had never made a reckless decision in his life. Benedict had never been like him in that regard. He wasn’t considered a rake, didn’t even aspire to be one, but he too often made choices based on his heart.

As he always had when it came to Vivien.

“I know the purpose of your visit, but I require you to say it out loud,” Benedict said. He sat down at the table, set his plate down with a clatter and folded his arms as he stared up at his brother. “Go ahead, you are bursting with your arguments, so make them.”

Derek retook his seat and sipped his coffee before he said anything. The delay made Benedict antsy and he shifted in his chair.

“You must have known that news of your meeting with Vivien Manning would get back to me,” his brother began softly.

Benedict thought he would have a harsh retort or even a blazing argument when his brother began, but he found, now that her name had been spoken, that the air had been let out of his high emotions.

“I wasn’t thinking of you, Brother, I assure you,” he said. A statement not entirely true, but true enough.

“You met with her at Paddington’s, I hear. And then the British Museum,” his brother continued.

“Spies at both, I assume?” Benedict said as he shoveled a forkful of fluffy eggs into his mouth.

“No, only concerned friends.”

Benedict rolled his eyes. “Spies.”

“Whatever you call them, I was troubled to hear about it. Benedict, it is one thing to see her at
her
gatherings once every six months and say hello, but to make arrangements to escort her about Town like she is your mistress again…”

“There weren’t any arrangements,” he said softly. “We met quite by accident and the day developed as it did.” He flashed briefly to both their powerful encounters in the carriage and shook away the erotic memories. “Do not make it out to be more than it is.”

“And what is it?” Derek asked.

Benedict glanced up from his plate to find his brother’s expression soft and filled with concern.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Derek got up and paced the room once. When he returned to the table, he said, “You are a grown man, capable of making your own decisions, of course. I hope you know my worries have nothing to do with my assessment of your sensibleness.”

“Of course they do,” Benedict laughed, but it was a humorless sound.

“No.” Derek shook his head. “They truly do not. I just…I don’t want to see you fall back.”

Benedict had been keeping his emotions in check, both internally and for the sake of his brother, but suddenly they bubbled forward in a burst he did not expect.

“This is easy for you to judge and to say,” he snapped, rising from his own chair. “You are married to your love. You don’t know what it feels like to have her torn from you. You cannot judge the reaction you think I should have for the same.”

“Benedict—” his brother began in that pitying tone that Benedict hated more than any other.

“No,” he snapped out in interruption. “I realize you have your opinions. I respect them, for I know they come from the best of intentions. But I am not a fool. I am doing this with Vivien because once it is over, it’s over.”

His brother blinked and he saw a dawning of understanding on Derek’s face. And more of that cursed pity, as well.

“I do not want to see you filled with regret,” his brother said softly.

Benedict frowned. He might deny it to his sibling, but in truth that was his private fear as well. Already he was beginning to feel those same deeper emotions for Vivien that he had once before. Losing her a second time was bound to hurt.

“No,” he said, almost more for himself than for Derek. “I refuse to regret anything. This time I
know
this affair is over, even before it began. My only regret would be if I didn’t say yes.”

Derek moved toward him, but Benedict held up a hand to stop him.

“Please,” he said. “Stop being my older brother. Stop trying to protect me. Just…leave it be.”

Derek’s face revealed how difficult a request that was for him. In some ways, Benedict appreciated that. Appreciated that his brother longed to help him. To keep him from harm as he had when they were mere children.

But in this, especially this, Benedict had to make his own decisions. And suffer their consequences, no matter what they were.

Vivien sipped her tea and tried to maintain some kind of decorum as she looked across the table at Mariah and Lysandra. It was a difficult task when her mind returned again and again to thoughts of Benedict. And not just the way he had touched her, filled her, but of their talk all the previous day.

Despite her attempts to maintain distance, she felt closer to him, probably more than she ever had, even when they were lovers in the past.

“And away she goes again,” Lysandra laughed. “Vivien, are you certain you wish to have this meeting? You are obviously distracted.”

Vivien dragged herself to the present. She was never
obviously
anything! That was a skill she had forced herself to perfect in order to protect herself from those around her. If her emotions were clear, she was failing indeed.

“Of course we must have the meeting,” she said, far more sharply than she had intended. “The Charitable Fund for Young Ladies is too important not to give it my full attention.”

Lysandra’s laughter faded. “It is a good cause. And I thank you both for allowing me to be involved. As you know, I lost everything and if it were not for you, Vivien, my life might have become quite desperate.”

The sharpness Vivien had forced faded slightly. She had begun the Charitable Fund for Young Ladies just after Lysandra’s marriage and put her in charge of it. The money was Vivien’s, but the respectability came from the ladies of Society who ran the galas and raised the awareness of the women who were forced onto the street by circumstance. If she could save just one from a life of desperation…from a life like her own had once been…she felt like she had done something important.

And that was even more significant now that she intended to leave London.

“I do wish you could be a public part of the organization,” Lysandra sighed.

Vivien shook her head. “If I were even suspected as being its benefactress, the entire endeavor would collapse. The other Society ladies wouldn’t want to sully their hands and reputations by associating with me and my dirty money.”

Mariah sighed. Although Lysandra had only briefly been a mistress, and only to the man she ultimately married, Mariah had been closer to Vivien’s own position. Her transition into Society after her marriage to John Rycroft was proving more difficult, though her friend never complained.

Vivien could see hers would be impossible, even if she wished to attempt it.

“I fear Vivien is right,” Mariah gently explained to Lysandra. “From my own experiences, I know it takes a great deal of work to make any friends at all once you’ve been in our position. I’m lucky that a handful of ladies, including your sister-in-law, Lysandra, have welcomed me and made things easier.”

“Those in the
ton
value their respectability too highly to risk calling a whore a friend,” Vivien mused. “I accept that, so there is no use belaboring the point.”

Lysandra opened her mouth to argue further, but Vivien did not allow it. “At any rate, your plans for the gala to raise more funds for the transitional home for these women sound perfect. You must tell me all about the night once it happens.”

She got to her feet and paced away so her friends wouldn’t see how troubling this subject was to her. In truth, she wished she could make herself as blind to that fact. She knew what she was, she recognized the consequences, but it seemed that being with Benedict made them all the harder.

She turned with a false smile. “Is that all?”

“I have one more point that has to do with…well, not the charity exactly, but the purpose behind it,” Mariah said.

Vivien tensed. She could see her friend’s anxiety and it made her just as anxious in return. “Go ahead.”

“I have it on good authority that the Earl of Dersingham is back to his old tricks.”

Vivien squeezed her eyes shut as Lysandra made a pained sound in her throat.

“You mean, I suppose, that he is abusing the servants again, knowing they cannot escape without his reference?” Lysandra asked softly.

Mariah’s lips thinned as she nodded. “Yes.”

Lysandra pushed back from the table and walked away across the room. Mariah and Vivien exchanged a glance of concern, though neither of them said a thing. These kinds of stories hit their friend harder, for she had been in a similar position once. It was why the charity they had formed was so important to her.