Benedict Bridgerton Regency Imagines || Benedict Bridgerton

Consequences

You know you shouldn't, but you can't help yourself.

It's another boring ball of the season, and you resent the fact that you have to attend; and that you must also play the part of a demure wife. Especially when your thoughts are plagued with the opposite, you are lust filled, desperate for him to take you home, away from all this pomp and ceremony. It's been three weeks of marital bliss, and you never want to leave your bedroom. So to liven up the evening, you decide to be just a little wicked, take every opportunity to touch and tease your husband—the more inappropriate, the better.

You grab a handful of his bum as he talks to some old drooling baron or other, giggling heartily when he almost drops his champagne. He removes your hand with a disapproving frown; you wink and whirl away before he can say anything.

A little while later, he is chatting to Lady Danbury when you lean in and whisper in his ear, "I'm so wet for you, husband." He makes a choked, almost pained noise. There's no way Lady Danbury heard what you said, but his reaction tells her all she needs to know.

"Child, I remember the first flush of wedded bliss. But there is also the matter of propriety," she raises an eyebrow, "You would do well to remember that," she taps her cane on the floor for emphasis, then moves on.

Benedict looks at you harshly. "There's a time and a place, wife."

You stick out your tongue just a little and go to get another champagne.

The next time you catch him, his lower half is concealed from view as he stands in front of a high-top table draped in golden fabric. You forcefully grab his crotch, making him cough and jump.

"What are you playing at?" he hisses harshly.

"I want you to take me home and fuck me," you whine, not moving your hand, cupping and squeezing him instead.

He exhales gustily, but his face looks pinched.

"Stop that," he gruffs.

"Why?" you drawl playfully.

He grabs your wrist and surprises you by bending your arm behind your back and whispering in your ear.

"Be careful what you wish for, wife." his voice is low and carries a tinge of danger, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, exhilarated. It's like a switch has flipped, and your amiable husband has become something different altogether.

"Tell me more," you murmur back, enthralled.

He raises an eyebrow, and his face takes on a flintiness you've never seen before. "If you don't behave, you'll know just how harsh I can be."

"Is that a challenge, my love?" you tease, surprising yourself with just how breathy you sound.

"In your wedding vows, you promised to honour and obey me," his voice testy. "So tell me, wife, do you want to find out just how much I can make you obey?"

You know your pupils dilate at that. Oh god, yes, you do. "Make me," you challenge—the thrill racing down your limbs.

"We are leaving now," his tone brokers no argument as he drops your arm. You smile, knowing you've got your way.

The whole ride home, you burn with suspense about what he will do to you. Since your wedding day, he has opened a new world of sexual pleasure for you. But this feels like something entirely different. A whole side to him you never knew existed. And by god, you're finding it attractive.

As you walk into your home, his hand is firm on your lower back, and he guides you immediately up the stairs.

"Under no circumstances should we be disturbed until morning Smith," he calls out with a dismissive gesture towards his valet. "Doesn't matter what you hear coming from our bed-chamber, no one should approach. Is that clear?" Smith nods solemnly and scurries away.