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“Say my name again.”

“Ben – oh!” He heard the catch in her breath and felt the jolt that ran through her. She was coming on his fingers, and he felt light-headed at the sensation of the tight spasmodic clasp of her, even though she’d rushed ahead when he’d meant to keep teasing her a while yet, mindless with need.

Pushing his fingers deep, he clenched his jaw and concentrated on the distant merry making of the fair in the background. He could hear it even from the distance of four of five fields away. He felt blisteringly aware of everything, even the steady rasp of his own breath.

“Fuck, I need to be inside you,” he swore. “I meant to take it slower, but I’ll spill in the sheets if you don’t take me now.”

She started to struggle, and his heart plummeted a moment, thinking she was trying to get away from him. Then he realized she was trying to free herself from her bloomers.

“I don’t deserve you, sweetheart,” he said shakily, stripping the cotton garment down her legs. When he resettled between her bare thighs, he was breathing hard. “Are you sure you’re ready?” He knew for a fact she’d come, but it had happened so quickly he still felt he was rushing her.

She nodded. “Yes,” she whispered, and he reached down, taking himself in hand, poising his shaft at her entrance.

Once he’d worked the tip inside her, he braced himself to go slow for he knew she had found this part uncomfortable the last time. “Wrap your legs around my back, Lizzie. I need you to open up to me.”

He felt a fierce surge of joy when she did so, and he started to push his way inside her, concentrating on the pressure of her fingers clutched on his hips. “Tell me if I go too fast or if anything hurts.” She nodded, and by the time he was fully sheathed, the sweat was beaded at his brow.

“Oh, Lizzie,” he groaned. “You feel so good. It’s a lucky thing we skipped dessert, for I’m about to slake my lust on you like a regular glutton at a banquet.”

“A glutton?” she echoed sounding mystified.

“Aye, a glutton,” he agreed, reaching up and plucking at her little pink nipples. “Feasting on these little raspberry tarts, though by rights, I ought to have eaten that dripping honey cake between your legs.”

Lizzie’s mouth fell open. “Benedict!” she spluttered.

“Hmmm?” When she could not answer, he lowered his head to her breasts. “Offer them up to me, Lizzie.” The sight of her slender fingers cupping her breasts for him almost had him spilling inside her. He groaned. “Fuck!” He’d done it again and pushed himself too far. His cock jerked inside her as he sucked her perfect breast right into his greedy mouth.

“Oh!” Lizzie moaned.

His nostrils flared. He’d make her come again now. That would redeem his pride. He closed his teeth gently around her nipple and teased it with his tongue. Lizzie’s thighs tightened fitfully about his hips, and he lavished his attention on the other breast.

“Nnnnnnh!” she gasped and threw back her head. He felt the nice deep squeeze of her cunt and knew himself to be lost and that was before he felt the press of her heels into the small of his back. Christ. She was doing it, he thought, lightheaded with elation. She was coming on his cock. His nostrils flared as he slammed his hips into her, and Lizzie cried out, her fingers biting into his sides, her hair tossed against his pillow.

“Benedict!”

His eyes were riveted to her face. Suddenly, he needed to kiss her, even though both of them had tipped past the crisis point already. Threading his fingers through her silky hair, he angled her face and took her lips beneath his own. It felt strangely intimate to kiss at this point. Kissing usually came earlier than this, he thought dimly, much earlier. But for some reason, he wanted it now as they crossed the finish line together.

Lizzie’s arms slid around his back, clasping him to her in an embrace that undid him completely. Reluctant to relinquish her lips, he gave her one last lingering kiss before collapsing on top of her, breathing hard.

*

Benedict woke early, wrenched from his sleep by the unpleasant conviction he had missed a step in the flight he was descending. His spine jerked and he woke blinking in the gray morning light. He reckoned it was about five thirty in the morning. Lizzie was tucked into his side sound asleep, her one arm wound about his waist as was her habit.

Likely he had woken so early because it was the last day of the fair, he told himself uneasily. It would be a long day, and this time tomorrow they would be packing up their things to get back on the road. He had not even discussed with Frank which of the smaller fairs they would travel to next. His thoughts bounced around, searching out the reason for his unease.

He was not hungover. He had only had a few glasses of the punch and certainly not enough to turn his head. He felt fine, he told himself, so why did he feel this deep disquiet? Reluctantly, Benedict forced himself to go over anything he might have said or done the previous evening.

There it was. He flushed in the dark remembering the things he had tried to make Lizzie say to him. Tell me you wanted me all along. He squirmed with embarrassment as he recalled his own words. Why the hell had he wanted her to say that? He’d never needed assurances from anyone before.

Besides, it was ridiculous to demand anything of the sort and moreover was tantamount to making the poor girl admit she’d coveted her own cousin’s fiancé, something he knew damned well she had not. He dwelt deliberately a moment on Lizzie’s previously pinched and disapproving expression whenever she had deigned to look his way.

Instead of feeling the resentment he had previously, though, his reaction was highly colored by how he felt about her now. Inconveniently, he felt himself growing hard, and he turned his head toward her, despite the fact it was not light enough yet for him to make out her features clearly.

As though aware of his scrutiny, Lizzie stirred in her sleep, turning more firmly into him, burrowing her face into his chest and throwing her leg over his. Benedict sucked in his breath before blowing it back out again. She’d be the death of him, he thought wryly, and steeled himself to lie beside her perfectly still for another half hour before rising.

He just about managed it. By the time she opened the door an hour later, he had boiled the water and was scooping the tealeaves into the pot.

“Good morning.”