Clandestine Meetings

[lennie3]

If they could stay in this bed for the rest of their days Genevieve was quite sure they would find a way to occupy their time. It was becoming increasingly easy to simply just be in his company and that frightened her more than anything else developing between them. Even now as her touch was almost lazy, drawing moans from him she never wanted to forget hearing, it was all so very simple. Genevieve had never suspected simplicity would be something so dangerous in her life, but the comfort and joy she simply felt from his presence was proving her wrong at an urgent speed.

Feeling his hand slip between them, fingers brushing over her skin and she sighed, a small shiver running through her and Genevieve dropped her head to his shoulder with a sigh of his name. "So touch me," she hummed, her voice soft, pleading, as his fingers teased at her folds and Genevieve inhaled sharply. She hadn't intended to let him touch her now, had wanted to touch him, to take her time, tease him, pleasure him, but she was learning quickly resisting Benedict was not as easy as it should've been. In fact everything would have been much easier had he been easier to resist. Her body responded to his touch immediately, a soft mewl of a moan falling from her lips and Genevieve's mouth find his, kissing him eagerly as her fingers wrapped to pump around him eagerly.

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[Benedict Bridgerton]

I'm not bound by                                  

The sound of pleasure that escaped her upon his touch spurred him on, particularly as her words granted him ease of access. To be able to touch one another so intimately was . . . something that many believed reserved for a married man and woman. But neither of them thought of such things. And both of them, merely acted upon desire and base need. It was what prompted their first kiss at the party that led to more and . . . more, and well, this. And the development was truly wonderful. The comfortable rapport they had with one another where there were no questions, complications, or hesitations. It felt both simple and special. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ Benedict drew a deep breath as her hands moved quicker over him, not wasting any time on her. His finger slowly slipped inside of her, gently touching her sensitive spot and slightly applying pressure to it to pleasure her as much as she was him. The motions careful, so not to cause her discomfort but deliberate so that she may feel something akin to what she was doing to him. He moaned her name against her lips, breath quickening as his finger moved inside of her, exploring her, feeling his own length thicken in her hand and throb. He eased out of the kiss only to offer her a warning. "I'm close," he breathed, should she wish to withdraw her hand so not to be stained with his release, as his own hand felt her building pleasure, striving to have her reach that peak of climax. Tag lennie3

                        the rules of society.

[lennie3]

Genevieve sighed softly, her other hand curling into his hair, soft chestnut locks like silk between her fingers. Benedict pulled away slightly to speak and she hummed softly, not relying on words to answer him as her hand continued its motions. She forced her eyes to open, yearning to see the expression on his face, eyes hooded and lips parted close to her own. Smiling she leaned in to close the small distance, pressing quick and small kisses to his lips as her hand continued to stroke his length. The need felt between them was reckless and perhaps even enhanced by the dangerous risk it came with. He had no future in the bed they currently occupied, Genevieve did not want him to have one. She stood by her claim that Benedict Bridgerton was a fun way to spend her free time; she could not allow him to be more.

The brunette whimpered softly against him, melting into his touch. Genevieve could feel her pleasure build, fingers tightening in his hair as she gasped against his lips. Her own strokes over his length slowed down, became lighter in touch for a moment as her kisses grew more urgent. Her own pleasure filled release was approaching fast, her body melting into his every touch, moans spilling from her lips each time his fingers curled lightly. The euphoric release washed over her and Genevieve tucked her face into his neck, lips pressed against his skin as rocked her hips against his touch, her soft moans urging him to let go.

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[Benedict Bridgerton]

I'm not bound by                                  

He responded to each of her light kisses, his body ignited from all she made him feel. Each involuntary response of his body, a result of the need she drove from him and the pleasure she built in him. Growing familiar with her body, he could feel her close as well. And there was something to be said about the synchronism of their bodies where they could find that pleasurable release at the same time. It did not always happen with a couple, but it seemed to happen with them. It was all the more reason their actions resulted in such an outburst of passion and . . . addiction, it would seem. Unable to grow tired of the other. Unable to get enough of these pleasures. Would it ever cease, this overpowering need? Benedict certainly hoped not. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ He felt his hand grow wet from her release, his own merely a second or two away as her moans prompted him to follow the unspoken urging, to let go. And he did. Throbbing and swelling in her hand until he felt his release, evidence of it spilling over as he groaned with the blissful aftermath, practically soaring in it. His finger withdrew from her, still caressing the area nearby as his shoulders relaxed, and his hips settled from their slow thrusts into her hand, against the soft bed once more. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ His chest heaved from their actions -- or her actions on him, as he watched her, committing the sight of her in these moments of their aftermath to his memory. When he finally felt he was able to form words, he took advantage. "So, this is what else a bed can provide," he said with a flirtatious smile, referencing her earlier words and . . . thoroughly enjoying the result of them, obviously. Tag lennie3

                        the rules of society.

[lennie3]

Her mind did not need to understand his because her body quite clearly understood his, and that was all they needed. This thing between them needed to remain physical. Standing invitations and flowers aside this was what they had, a mutually beneficial physical arrangement. Genevieve was sure they were on the same page and yet while she was very much on that page she had been charmed by the flowers, she had been nervous to know he’d be in her home, she had looked forward to seeing him. She had even started searching him out consciously in crowds at parties and perhaps it was all that causing her to insist to herself this was just physical need.

None of her concerns mattered as he spilled into her hand and Genevieve kissed his neck, whispering soft words of encouragement against his skin before taking her hand off him. She reached for the sheets, wiping her hand over them before settling her head against his heaving chest and she smiled, feeling the smug grin taking its place across her features.

Benedict spoke and Genevieve lifted her head to look at him, laughter bursting from her lips and she pressed the pad of her thumb over his bottom lip as she laughter morphed into a fond smile, “that smile is trouble,” she informed him, her voice reverent as she spoke. She would have insisted she was right had anyone protested, it was roguishly charming, a hint of boyish carefreeness in his expression she was quite sure she could get high off of given the chance. Feeling a smile form on her own lips Genevieve kissed the corner of his mouth before speaking, “in part, I was thinking we’d save something for later,” she teased lightly, curling against him, she just wanted to enjoy the comfort of his company for a moment.

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[Benedict Bridgerton]

I'm not bound by                                  

Benedict's eyes followed her as she moved to wipe her hands, already thinking that he should get up and offer her a proper cloth. And yet . . . he did not yet wish to break the contact of their bodies. He was far too comfortable, and surely, there was no rush. Her laughter prompted his own, releasing a chuckle at her words as he enjoyed her hand upon him once more. A sensation that never failed to leave a trail of warmth upon wherever she gave him her attentions. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ "What ever do you mean?" He asked with both feigned and playful innocence, a teasing expression to match before his features relaxed back into a more natural relaxed look, a smile still upon them. As she suggested that they save something for later, the mere thought of it brought a thrill to the male, but not just because of the pleasures that the words suggested. No. It was the very key part of her sentence . . . later. They had the night together. And the thought was truly a joyous one. Benedict moved to tuck and fold one arm behind his head, the other caressing her back, trailing his fingers over her soft skin. Indication that he completely agreed with what she said. They would save something for later. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ "How long have you had your shop?" The soft inquiry came out so, effortless. A natural progression of conversation from what they had just done. And he found himself asking with genuine interest. Benedict failed to recognize the danger of his question. Instead, he thought only of a sincere desire to know more about her. Not just physically, but rather . . . about her as a person. Her likes. Her dislikes -- apart from the pleasurable kinds. So he saw no issue with asking such a thing. Just as he saw nothing wrong with coming on invitation. Or spending the night in her bed. No. This all felt rather, comfortable. And right. Tag lennie3

                        the rules of society.

[lennie3]

Goosebumps rose across her skin as he brushed his fingers over her, her head tucked in the side of his neck as a soft laugh erupted from her lips. This was comfortable, not only lying on here bed, but lying there with him sharing gentle touches and whispered words simply because raising their voices any louder wasn't required. It was all dangerously perfect as she remained closely tucked against him, feeling nothing but content to just be in his company.

As Benedict shifted, making himself more comfortable, Genevieve's body followed as if it was second nature to move with him, to rest her head against his chest. With a small smile she drew patterns across his skin with her fingertips, tilting her head back to press a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw, "I mean exactly that," she hummed, her tone of voice fond and warm, "trouble," Genevieve declared. He and his charming smile may definitely have been sporting a danger to her sanity but sacrificing beforementioned sanity did not seem like amuch of a loss.

But giving up her sanity felt safer than the question he posed and Genevieve hated to admit she froze in his arms for a moment. it wasn't that she didn't want to tell him, but sharing details about herself had never been something she'd been good at. Genevieve hid so much, concealed every part of herself which was not carefully constructed. Here with Benedict however she was surprised by how easy the idea of telling him everything he would want to know really was, how much she wanted him to know her beyond how her body responded to his touch. Genevieve sat up, somewhat reluctantly, fluffing up the pillows as she settled back against them. She smiled, "it's been six years now," she pushed her fingers through his hair as she spoke, combing through chestnut locks, "a shop like this was all ma mére ever talked about when I was a little girl."

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[Benedict Bridgerton]

I'm not bound by                                  

A playful smirk formed on his features when she made the comment of trouble, unable to resist the amused expression. The warmth of her continued touches and attentions made him feel so incredibly relaxed and at ease. He felt as if he could lay here forever. A dangerous thought, yet he could not help but let the serenity of all this wash over him, and truly embrace the peace of these four walls. However, he was abruptly pulled from it when she began to shift. He did not move with her but he raised his head a little to watch her, wondering if he had said something wrong. If his question had been to invasive. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ His sudden worries completely masked by the calm expression on his face, with a flicker of curiosity. He settled with his head back against his folded arm once more when she lay back down, her hand running through his hair and he resumed that previous feeling of bliss. Intently listening to her as she explained her answer. The response drew a soft smile on his lips, looking at her with an equally soft gaze. "You fulfilled your mother's dream," he both asked and acknowledged at the same time. "Was it your dream too?" Was this what she had always wanted to be, a modiste? Or did she do it in honor of her mother? Either way, Benedict admired her. She was an independent, hardworking woman and that just made her all the more attractive and captivating in the Bridgerton's eyes. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ Society may dictate otherwise, but he cared little for it's dictations. This entire arrangement between them, this . . . bond and rapport -- relationship, though the word did not immediately enter Benedict's mind -- was not due to necessity. She did not need him, as most mistresses needed a wealthy man. They were together, because they wanted to be. Because there was mutual desire there. Perhaps, that was what made it all the more special between them. He moved his hand to her cheek, gently caressing her, looking into her eyes. "I admire you, Genevieve." For all that she did, and the strength of her character. Some deemed it inappropriate for those of such varying ranks to associate with one another in such a way. But to Benedict, he only felt admiration for someone who worked hard and built a life of their own. Tag lennie3

                        the rules of society.

[lennie3]

Talking to Benedict about herself, about her past, it was all so much easier than she had ever expected it could have been. It was easier than it should've been. Genevive felt comfortable around him, blissfully content and unafraid to be herself around him. They lived in a world where expectations were based on your social status rather than anything else anyone would ever accomplish. So, for Benedict to ask her about her accomplishments, whether his intentions were genuine care or curiosity Genevieve was touched by it. She enjoyed this, this calm and undeniable sense of security they had found with each other, it was nice and Genevieve wanted to have nice for a while.

But it also got her thinking and the brunette pursed her lips, her finger stilling in his hair as she seized combing her fingers through it. From the moment she had been able to walk she had also been able to thread a needle. Genevieve had spent as much of her childhood as she could remember helping her mother mend clothes and sow hems, the only difference from the stories she'd tell about her supposed past was the location, most of the rest remained true. But she had always had a path laid out so very clear ahead of her, and while her mother had never pushed her into her profession it had always been the only future she had been able to see for herself. Now that he posed the question she didn't know for sure, whether it was her dream or if she had simply done what her mother had not been able to do.

"That is a wonderful way of thinking of it," Genevieve said with a small smile, "I suppose I never considered it like that before, I like to think she was happy with the business she had, perhaps she wanted more but I do like to think she was happy with the life we all had together," opening up the way she was felt strange, she was so used to dropping little secretive facts about a childhood in France to charm her clientele. But while it felt unusual to not do it for the purpose of charming anyone, it was nice, talking to Benedict like this was nice, "I don't know if it was my dream then, but it became my dream with time."

Genevieve smiled, twisting to drop a kiss to his cheek, "thank you," she hummed, "I believe coming from you those words mean far more than from anyone else." She meant it. Genevieve valued his opinions, quite possibly more than she should've; his company, his thoughts, what he wanted and needed in life, she cared about it all and it was all of importance to her.

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[Benedict Bridgerton]

I'm not bound by                                  

Benedict smiled upon hearing her say that it was a wonderful way to consider it; a fulfilment of dreams. And there was nothing more special, than honoring a parent's dream by being able to fulfil it. He listened intently to her continue about the business her mother once had, of the happy life that her mother had created, and how this had eventually become her dream. This business was certainly one that she flourished in and despite the social circles that Benedict had grown up in, he found nothing . . . degrading about the working class. Quite the opposite in fact. Genevieve was a perfect example of that. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ "Were you?" Benedict found himself asking. Reaching out his hand returned to casually twirling her curly locks around his fingers. "Happy I mean, as a child growing up." Benedict knew that he was among the privileged. Not just because of rank -- that was quite secondary in his mind. But because, he grew up in a house full of love. Despite the tragedy that struck them at a young age, there was never an absence of love among their household. He found himself wanting to learn more about Genevieve, quickly realizing that he hardly knew anything about her. He didn't even know her face when she first spoke to him at Henry's party. "What was your dream then?" He continued to ask, wondering if she had not become a Modiste, what did she aspire to be? ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ "Forgive me, for all these questions," he apologized, realizing that he may be prying a little too much. "I just, do not know a great deal about you." Voicing his earlier thoughts, there was no point in concealing them. "And I find myself, curious," he added on teasingly, his words playful and though he meant it . . . he also knew that it was more than just intrigue. Deeper than just mere intrigue.  "Wanting to learn more about you. Or at least what you are willing to share." An added offer, that she did not have to answer anything she felt uncomfortable with. It was different, talking to her. His walls and guard were down and he did not have to overthink what came out of his mouth as he did among the ton. With that, came the risk of possibly offending her or being too intrusive. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ Upon her next stated words, Benedict felt . . . touched. Truly touched to hear that. To know that she held his words so dear, for he meant them. The smile on his lips, unwavering. Such an easy expression to make in her company and when it faded, it was usually due to their less . . . conversational activities. "Then I am both flattered and honored," he began to say. "That you hold my words in such high esteem." And he couldn't resist, leaning forward to place a kiss upon her cheek, reflecting that her words in return, meant a great deal to him too. Tag lennie3

                        the rules of society.

[lennie3]

Over the years Genevieve had found there were several benefits to keep her past secret, more elusive. Not only did the women of the ton enjoy a good mystery, so to not know everything about the modiste who created their gowns merely added a value to the frocks. Adding onto that a French accent and a past on the continent it had proved to be an even more definite success story, women of London unable to resist the (supposedly) French-born modiste's little boutique, all it had taken was a few of the well respected ladies taking a chance on her and since that moment Genevieve had been alright. She had more money to spend now than she had had as a child, the ability to support herself and the possibility to help her parents out simply because she had the means to do so.

But despite not having everything she had ever wished for her childhood had been happy... had it not? Genevieve had two loving parents who always ensured she had the best they could possibly give her. There had been hard times for them, but they had held together as a family and got through them. Even now she would write to them every now and then, despite her dishonesty and fabricated past Genevieve loved her parents. "I was," she said, the smile on her lips reminiscent of the years long since in the past, "we had times when we struggled, when things were not quite so easy but, we were a family through it all and I would not wish for my childhood to have been any different."

It was dangerously easy to talk to him like this, she felt comfortable opening up and Genevieve was not quite sure how he had managed this in the first place. His original question had been so simple and now she felt as if revealing most of what he'd ever want to know about her would not be so bad. "You don't need to apologize, Benedict," Genevieve insisted, fingers continuing to brush through his hair, it was soothing, the repetitive motion and perhaps even more so the knowledge that in this moment he was hers to touch so casually yet intimately.

"I'm flattered you want to know me," it was the truth, the dangerous and far too risky truth but it did not make it any less honest. She pushed the thoughts of how terrible it could be aside to smile, her voice warm with feeling as she spoke, "it would be terrible if you did not, as I wish to know you."

She felt her skin flush as he pressed a kiss to her cheek, pulling her lip between her teeth feeling the need to suppress the grin threatening to break onto her features. She was not sure if it was his actions or his words which had been the cause to the flush in her cheeks, but it was undeniably there regardless.

tag Benedict Bridgerton .

[Benedict Bridgerton]

I'm not bound by                                  

Benedict enjoyed hearing her speak of her previous years . . . especially as they were clearly fond ones. He knew he may regret forcing her to talk about memories if they held sadness and despair, but fortunately, they did not. Besides, he liked to think he would have been able to pick up on it before posing the question. Or questions. Never the less, the made him feel further at ease to know she had a happy childhood. That times may be difficult, but that she would not change anything about it. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ "It gladdens me, to hear that you hold such fond childhood memories. A happy childhood is not as common a thing as it should be." Many had heartbreaking ones but as Benedict though of previously, so long as one had love growing up . . . the challenges and struggles they faced, were able to be overcome. Most of the time. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ The sense of relief further washed over him when she assured him that he did not need to apologize. He felt a bit less guilty for all the inquiries upon her reassurance as his smile brightened when she said that she was flattered by it. "I do," he further stated. "I wish to know you. Your likes and dislikes . . . " He paused for a moment, a bit of a playful expression forming upon his face. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ "And not just in physical terms," he said suggestively, unable to resist the tease. "But to hear of your dreams growing up, and your childhood . . . to know what made you, who you are today." Someone he cared deeply for. Someone he enjoyed all aspects of. Someone who . . . he was truly falling for. Her own words, wishing to know him filled him with a joy he had not thought possible from such words. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ But to know the feeling was mutual . . . allowed him to feel more comfortable in asking her questions as well. Though, he knew it may have been quite one sided. "Anything you wish to know about me Genevieve, all you need do is ask." And he meant it, his hand stroking her cheek while making this silent promise to her. Tag lennie3

                        the rules of society.

[lennie3]

When Genevieve suggested Benedict should come to her home she had not expected this. She was not entirely sure what she had been expecting, maybe it was the chance to just have more time together than they normally did, to not be in a rush. Thinking of it in that sense they had got exactly that, and now that lack of rush was getting them something entirely unexpected.

There were so many reasons why sharing stories about her past should not have made her feel so comfortable. The connection they shared was morphing into something far more serious right before her eyes and yet Genevieve found herself not caring, or at least not caring too much. Knowing he wanted to know all about her made her heart swell, the smile on her face feeling silly. She liked this, laying in bed with him sharing stories and speaking about things which should not have mattered in what they shared.

She adored that playful gleam in his eyes, laughter erupting from her lips as she listened to him speak. "I certainly hope the physical terms will continue to be involved," she mused, her teasing tone matching his. But while they had formed a bond over playful teasing Genevieve found it did not compare to speaking with him honestly and truthfully. It had not been her intention they would spend the evening speaking like this, but it was a turn of events she was not mad about.

Leaning into his touch Genevieve smiled, turning her head enough to kiss his palm. "Then I shall most definitely ask, mon chéri," she shifted in his arms, pressing closer to him as she placed a hand on his chin to guide his lips to hers. She had said she would ask him questions but it did not mean she would not kiss him after his sweet words, he had made himself very deserving of that kiss. Drawing back ever so slightly she kept her forehead pressed against his, fingers skimming over his jaw and Genevieve sighed contentedly.

"How did you end up at that party the night we met?" Genevieve asked in  a hushed tone. While it was only them in the flat she liked this, liked the air of intimacy speaking closely in quiet voices gave them.

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[Benedict Bridgerton]

I'm not bound by                                  

He truly adored the sound of her laughter, a pride in being the one to draw the reaction continuing to be felt any time she expressed her amusement. He met it with equal amusement in his expression as she spoke of her hope that the physical would continue to be involved. "Undoubtedly," he assured her. "But those likes are ones I enjoy exploring through, non verbal means," he said with a tone of suggestiveness in his voice. He liked learning her body. Learning what she enjoyed, where she liked to be touched, where she liked to be kissed. Strongly aware of her reactions, voluntarily and involuntarily, whenever he was able to explore her and make love to her. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ Taking it all in so that he could continue to pleasure her; though the intimacy now went beyond mere touch. But rather, through words. He closed his eyes when she leaned in for a kiss, soaking in the feeling, the softness of her lips. Her words lingering . . . and just as he enjoyed her laughter, he quite enjoyed hearing her use words of her native language. It was after all, a part of her too. When she eased out of the kiss, he slowly opened his eyes, glad for the close proximity between them and took advantage of it by placing a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ Her question deterring him from kissing her too much, but with the way her fingers moved across his jaw, the sigh she released, Benedict could not resist placing another kiss on her chin. "I met Henry Granville," he answered, as if that would be reason enough, and perhaps it was. But he knew there was a need to elaborate . . . just as she had given him answer to his questions. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ "He extended an invitation to me, initially as a place to practice my sketches." Considering she may have seen him at the parties in the artist room, he knew it was no secret. "That night of the party, I went merely to draw. Instead, I found pleasure beyond my expectation." Her. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ Well, technically her and Lucy but considering his company with only one of them remained consistent and frequent . . . it was clear that Genevieve was the one he was referring to. He brushed his lips against her jaw in a lingering, drawn out kiss as he continued to speak. "What brought you to such events?" He asked, returning the question, and realizing he did not know much about what brought her to them nor how long she had been attending them for. Tag lennie3

                        the rules of society.

[lennie3]

"And you must believe you are not the only one enjoying your quest to explore," Genevieve teased him, and her lips brushed against his as she spoke. There was an air of laughter in their words, a simplicity to it all and truly the night they were sharing made Genevieve feel as if what they had could never be touch by tragedy. Her words were accompanied by a light touch, fingers curling around the back of her neck and she smiled, brushing through the hairs at the nape of his neck.

"Lucy invited me after she had bought a few dresses from my shop," Genevieve told him, answering the question so she could return back to her own interest. Her friendship with Lucy Granville had formed easily over the visits the other woman had made to the boutique. The two of them had found they had more in common than Genevieve would have ever assumed she would have with any of the women she dressed, Lucy had shown her how very wrong she could be.

Listening to Benedict bring up his art was different to having seen him at an easel in the artist room, sipping wine and concentrating intently on what he was working on. She may have allowed herself a moment to admire the sight of him when she had spotted it, just a second lingering in the door and then slipping away before he had noticed her. But even though she knew of his interests him telling her about them was different, it mattered more and Genevieve realised that was what she wanted. She did not want to just know of his interest in art, she wanted him to tell her, to share it with her.

As dangerous as the feeling was Genevieve realised she wanted to hear more about it. She didn't find the idea of spending hours listening to him talk about what he was was passionate about for hours tedious at all. It was endearing, and she wanted to be the one he told things to. This night was giving them the opportunity to see what it was truly like to spend time together which was not rushed, and now that they had gotten a taste of it Genevieve couldn't deny how much she liked it.

"But I feel the need to express my sincerest apology that I distracted you from your artistic intentions," she hummed, copying his actions from before as she dropped a kiss to the corner of his mouth, "please tell me there is a way I could make that up to you?"

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