Benedict Bridgerton Regency Imagines || Benedict Bridgerton

Acting Up

"Stop that," Benedict hisses from the seat to your right.

"Why? No one's looking at us," you reason quietly, letting your hand trail further up his thigh. "Everyone's listening to Anthony; no one is paying us any mind."

Your knuckles brush his cock, teasing, and he growls.

"Wife" it's a low warning.

"Husband," you drawl under your breath, fingers splaying out but looking away as if enthralled by the same story as everyone else around the Bridgerton family dinner table.

He wraps his left arm around the back of your chair and leans over as if also intent on the tale at the other end of the room.

"You want to act up? Fine. Have it your way," his breath is hot in your ear as he moves your hand away from his lap. "Pull up your dress."

"But... that's too risky," you protest through gritted teeth, faking a smile.

"You should have thought of that before you teased me. And now here we are. So just do as you are told."

Slowly you gather the length of your dress into your lap. Laughing at the appropriate moments, along with the others and trying to keep up the charade.

"Open your legs wider."

"But I..." you begin, mouth behind your napkin as you pretend to dab away a crumb of food from your face.

He grabs your right leg and hauls it over his left thigh. You drop the napkin into your lap.

"Disobedience will only make this worse," he gruffs, even as his face is the picture of rapt attention towards his brother.

He leans closer, his right arm crossing to wrap around your waist, and he kisses your cheek—the picture of a sweet, devoted husband. Appearances can be deceiving.

"Stay still. Don't make a sound," he orders against your face as you pick up your drink.

His hand disappears under the napkin, and two of his talented fingers plunge into you without warning. You splutter into your wine glass.

"You don't play fair," you protest, attempting to fake a cough to conceal your moan.

Violet glances over from opposite you, concerned.

"Just a touch of seasonal allergies, mother," he reassures with an easy smile. "Right, my darling?" his lips at your temple, giving a gentle kiss.

"Yes, sorry, no need for worry," you confirm, coughing again as he pushes deeper. Violet nods and returns her attention to Anthony.

"Is this why I was forbidden from wearing underwear today?" you murmur.

He shrugs. "This, any other reason I might want. Who does this belong to?" he breathes, moving the fingers inside you back and forth.

"You."

The hand around your chair curls heavy against the back of your neck, "Who?"

"You, sir," you correct.

"That's right," releasing his grip. "Now the only thing I think we need to worry about, provided you can keep your pretty mouth shut, is all the delicious noises this drenched cunt is making." his voice almost silent but the tone conversational.

He drags his fingers in and out languidly; you can hear the suction, the cling of your lips around his knuckles.

"I want to see it," your hushed confession surprises even yourself.