When she frees it completely, she widens her eyes at me as if to say, I’m going to have to fit all of that in my mouth?
I nod. “Lick the tip.”
But this is Frankie, and she’s up to any challenge. With a sly brow arched, she runs her tongue around the head, then closes her mouth over me. She hums as she sucks hard.
I tug her hair. “Not so fast.” Her naughty mouth on my cock is an unholy temptation, but I want this to last. I inhale harshly, gathering my control. “Lick up the side.” I guide her head down and she obeys, her coy tongue snaking out to curl around my length. Her lashes flutter when she gets a taste. I force my fingers to relax in her hair. “Yes, good.” I can’t hide the fact that I’m breathing heavily, my muscles turned to iron. ”Now the other side.”
And now, I pull her head forward. I don’t have to say anything else. Her mouth glides all the way down, and I lose every thought in my mind.
Frankie
Benedict’s cock is warm between my lips. His fingers in my hair flex as I gobble him down. He wasn't expecting this. I’d grin if my mouth wasn’t full of him.
He's big—so big, I can't get the fingers of one hand around him. I try not to think of the intimidating girth and just focus on swirling my tongue around, sucking as hard as I can. His moans above me increase, and I know he’s gone. I cradle his balls in my hand, stroking them. My nails scratch lightly and he hisses in a breath. He takes over, forcing my head down a little bit further. I let my shoulders and neck go loose, and let him take control. It’s nice not to have to think, to worry whether I’m pleasing him. When I choke a little bit, he lets me back off. My eyes are watering and I'm glad I didn't put on mascara before we raced out of the house. It’d be streaming down my cheeks like the aftermath of a telenovela actress’s dramatic tears.
“Frankie,” Benedict growls. “I'm going to…” His abs tighten and his hips draw up, pumping his cock deep as he grunts softly. I let my jaw relax as he fills my mouth. I swallow and keep my lips around him, enjoying his shudders. When the aftershocks fade, I come off his cock with a pop and lick my lips. His features are relaxed, completely free of the strain that twisted them before.
I stay on my knees, catching my breath. I want to duck my head to his knee and curl up at his feet like a cat. Enjoy the safe and quiet, this submissive moment.
Benedict strokes my lips, the corner of my mouth. “Was that too much?”
I shake my head. “I liked it.”
He opens his arms and I crawl up to snuggle against him. His taste is rich, a bit salty, in my mouth. He kisses the top of my head
“Do you like that?” I ask. “Taking control?”
“Yes,” he says. “You'll tell me if you don't like it?”
I shrug. “I actually prefer it. I can stand on my own two feet, but in the bedroom… it’s nice to give myself over to someone. Someone I trust.”
“I’m honored you trust me.” His arms squeeze tight and relax. Outside the car windows, the grand shape of Lady Ursaline’s manor has come into view.
“You’re not like the others,” I add without thinking. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”
He frowns as if he wants to ask me more, but the car stops and it’s time for us to get out.
Lady Ursaline isn’t present, but her staff greets us. We have a whole wing of the house to ourselves, and lunch is already laid out. Benedict declines the tour in favor of catching up on his emails, but sends me off with a kiss. To my delight there's a large theater room near our set of rooms.
I return to the cozy parlor where I left Benedict working. The light streaming through the windows is hazy and welcoming. It’s a perfect, lazy Sunday afternoon. “I love how these ancient old houses all now have theater rooms.”
Benedict nods absently, not looking up from his screen. “Yes, my aunt's close friend had a theater room put in, so she had to have one put in as well.” I put a hand on his shoulder and he covers it with his large one. “Do you want to watch a movie?”
“May I?”
“Of course.” To my delight, he closes the laptop. “I’ll join you.”
He lets me select the movie. I waggle my brows at him as the opening credits start playing. “I've always wanted to kiss a man during fireworks.”
“I'm sure that can be arranged.” He cups the back of my neck, drawing me in for a kiss. It’s too early in the movie for the fireworks, but they pop in my belly.
He breaks the kiss all too soon. “Shall I order drinks and popcorn?”
I blink at the movie screen. The kiss made me forget what we were doing. “We can do that?”
He laughs. “Just like a real movie theater. Or so I’m told.”
“Wait, have you ever been to one?”
He shakes his head. “Security risk. But we can recreate the experience.”
He settles me in a chair and tucks a blanket around me.
“Be good.” He boops my nose. I stick out my tongue at him. “Careful,” he warns. “Consequences.” Shiver.
I spend the next few minutes fussing with the cushy double theater seat, figuring out which lever to press to make the divider sink down. We can just hold our drinks and popcorn, or set them aside and do… other things.
Now I just need Benedict back.
There's a creak in the hall, and I pop up. “Need help?” The door’s shut, and he might have his hands full.
I open the door, and there is Franz. With his metrosexual haircut and casual clothes, he looks like a member of a boy band. Young, handsome enough, but still a boy. Benedict is a man.
“Franz.” I cross my arms. “What a pleasure to see you.” My flat tone indicates it's not.
“Oh, it’s you. Wots-her-name.” He waggles a finger at me. “Froggy. No…” He taps his chin and pretends to think. “Fritzy. No, what is it again? Something masculine.”
I roll my eyes. “What do you want, Franz?”
“Just being a good host. Seeing how you're passing the time.” He cranes his head to see the movie screen, and scoffs. “My brother can do better than this.”
“Better than Hitchcock?” I play dumb. “I picked the movie. Don’t blame his taste, blame mine.”
His joking behavior falls away and he shoves his hands into his pockets. “You’re really going to go through with it?”
“Through with what?” There’s an intensity in his eyes I don’t like.
“This whole sham. Facade. Fake engagement.”
An icy sensation trickles up my spine. “Who says it's fake?”
He shrugs. “People talk. Maybe you're not as good an actress as you think you are. But I'll tell you this, honey,” he steps closer, “if you wanted a chance at the throne, you're focusing on the wrong brother.”
That makes no sense to me and I'm not sure what to say, so I stay quiet.
“Haven't you heard?” Franz stretches like a smug cat. “Dear brother Benny is as much of a fake as you are.”
“What do you mean?” I ask before I can stop myself.