"you have no idea what it is like to be in a room with someone you cannot live without, and yet still feel as though you are oceans apart."
Sevyn was born in the slums of England, beginning to dance at age two, she was discovered by Henry Granville...
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••• "painting her portrait,
an absolute likeness.
the loveliest face,
the most delicate skin." •••
July, 1813
Releasing a low, possessive growl, Benedict stalked up to the girl, looking up at him highly amused.
With one swift movement, she was in his arms, being pulled down to sit on his breeches. "I want you." He groaned, rocking his hips up to meet her womanhood. "You have no idea." Roughly pulling her body down, his hands ran up against her cleavage, cupping her breasts in his hands, till he finally gave in to his own desires and took her nipple in his mouth.
Letting out a soft squeal, she could feel the smirk on the mans face. "Shhh," he crooned. "Just let me." She looked dubious, but when he moved his mouth to her other breast, and renewed his sensual onslaught, her eyes grew dazed, her lips parted, and her head leaned on the headboard, watching him. "Do you like this?" He whispered, tracing the peak of her breast with his tongue. She couldn't manage to open her eyes- only giving a swift nod.
"I need you." She panted.
His words were murmured into the soft skin of her breast, "I know."
She wanted desperately to feel his skin, and she grabbed at the muslin of his shirt, bunching it in her hands till it came loose of his breeches. She touched him, skimming her hands along his lower back, surprised and delighted when his muscles quivered under her fingertips.
"Sev," he grunted, shuddering as her hands slipped under his shirt to caress his skin. His reaction emboldened her, amping her to trace her fingertips up his spine to his shoulders, broad and firm. He groaned again, cursing under his breath as he eagerly leaned up, shocking the girl. "Damn thing is in the way." He muttered, tearing the shirt off and disposing of it across the room. Sevyn had just moments to stare at his toned chest before he was atop her again, and this time they were skin against skin.
He was so warm.
"Did you imagine this?" He asked, tracing the crease of the back of her knee.
She shook her head frantically, attempting not to squirm. He slid his hands up the back of her thighs, "I daresay no one has touched you here," he said wickedly. To which the girl shook her head, "and I daresay you never imagined it." To which she responded no. "If you didn't imagine this..." he squeezed her thighs, causing her to squeal and arch off the mattress, "then I am sure you would not have imagined this..." he trailed his fingers upward as he spoke, the rounded curves of his nails lightly grazing her skin until he reached the soft thatch of her womanhood.
