29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter twenty-nine

L ucy finally left, so at long last, Hugh was alone with Charlotte, who stood with her back to him, humming as she hung her dresses in the wardrobe.

He stalked toward her. Snarling like a hungry beast, he moved a strand of her hair to the side and nipped at the back of her neck. She squealed and dropped the dress she was wrangling onto a hook. The pretty garment landed at her feet.

“You can do that later,” he said as he ground his cock into her soft buttocks.

She leaned into him. Pressing her back against his highly aroused front, she peered over her shoulder. “Oh, my. Someone is awake. And hard.”

Hard as fucking stone. “I love my mother and sister, and Lucy is a delight, but I thought I might die if I did not soon have you to myself.”

She moved her hips from side to side in a sensual dance. “I see now why you sent Lucy away?”

Swaying with her, he chuckled. “Did you truly believe I wanted you to unpack your own belongings?” Although not the case, he—and his randy prick—loved watching her do everything.

“Well, I do not think that anymore.” Her hand slid between them, and she cupped his cock. “Mmm,” she murmured.

Hell’s teeth, he burned for her. “I intend to have my wicked way with you, Mrs. Fletcher.” He swung around, grasped her around her hips, and hoisted her over his shoulder.

She wriggled and squealed as he carried her to the bed. He lightly spanked her shapely arse before tossing her back first onto the mattress. She landed in the center of the bed, her normally bright blue eyes dark from lust and a cloud of rose petals rising into the air. Red-cheeked and breathing hard, she resembled a naughty nymph, ripe for the taking.

Just as Hugh prepared to pounce, the birds squawked, Pepper barked, and someone knocked on the door.

“Shh. If we are quiet, they might go away,” he said.

No such luck. Whoever it was rapped again.

Charlotte bolted from the bed. “They are not leaving,” she whispered.

“Damnation.” Hugh reluctantly strode to the door as Pepper nipped at his heels. Meanwhile, wanting no part of the commotion, Snowball hunkered down on the windowsill.

Hugh cracked the door to a smiling Elizabeth holding a loaded-down tray. Once a nosey baby sister, always a nosey younger sister. “We have a staff for that,” he said .

“But I made it for you myself. Besides, I wanted to check on my new sister.” She pushed past him and set the tray on the dresser. She bent to pet Pepper on the head.

The dog’s tail wagged so fast his bum wriggled back and forth as he vibrated with energy.

His sister stood and smiled at Charlotte. “Are you settling in?”

“Yes. Thank you,” Charlotte said, her voice sounding a bit strained and her cheeks still red—probably embarrassment instead of lust, no thanks to his meddlesome sister.

“Do you love the flowers?” Elizabeth’s gaze slid to the untidy pile of petals in the middle of the bed that Pepper was happily snacking on.

“Quite,” Charlotte said. “Especially those.” She pointed to an overflowing vase on the dressing table, then swung her finger to the arrangement on the nightstand.

“I will be going then,” Elizabeth said as she sashayed to the door. “I do hope you enjoy your repast. I made sure to include the things I enjoy.” She halted to peer over her shoulder and wink at him.

Knowing his sister, she had left something scandalous on the tray.

“Hmm,” he murmured as he considered brandy, two glasses, chocolate-covered sweetmeats, a dish of honey, and the plumpest hothouse strawberries he had ever seen. Leave it to Elizabeth to provide a libidinous meal.

The strawberries and honey—from his sister —s hould be a libido killer. However…

Charlotte came up beside him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “I think she prepared a romantic bedroom picnic for us.”

“Indeed.” Hugh poured himself a drink .

“’Tis as if she knows all of my favorite treats.” Charlotte plucked a chocolate from the dish and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm,” she murmured as she closed her eyes and leaned back against the dresser.

Hugh sipped the inn’s signature ginger, cherry, and orange-flavored brandy as his wife made orgasmic sounds. His cock instantly returned to its earlier state. Awake and hard!

She carried a chocolate to him, then returned to the tray. No wonder Charlotte had made such wanton sounds. The chocolate melted in his mouth, leaving him feeling as if every one of his senses had heightened.

Plucking a strawberry from the bowl, she dipped it into the syrup and brought the fruit to her lips. Her tongue darted out, licking the sap from the tip. Her perfect white teeth nibble on the red fruit. Gazing into his eyes, her grin wicked, she gifted her treat with an exaggerated drawn-out lick. Undoubtedly, the little minx knew precisely what she did to him.

She popped the rest of the strawberry into her mouth and chewed, the delicate muscles in her neck working as she swallowed. “I do so love strawberries and chocolates,” she said enthusiastically. Thereupon, her voice became raspy. “And brandy when I taste it on your skin.”

Splendid. Then he would coat himself in liquor. But first, he would kiss her breathless. He placed his drink on the tray and reached for her.

She backed away, a sparkle in her eyes.

“Do not tease me, Firefly. My body cannot take much more want. I fucking ache. Every inch of me.”

Grinning, she took another step back. “But we just fucked this morning.”

Hell’s teeth, he loved it when she said filthy words. “Say that again. ”

She blew him a kiss. “We just fucked this morning.”

“Again,” he growled.

“Fucked,” she whispered.

He instantly had her in his arms, his lips slamming against hers. He lapped up the taste of chocolate, strawberries, and ambrosia. As their tongues explored, he removed her hairpins, dropping them onto the floor. Once her hair was free, he grabbed fistfuls and pulled. Her head tilted back, allowing his tongue deeper.

Seconds into their passionate kiss, she pulled back. “Hugh, wait.”

Damn, him to hell. In his overzealousness, he had been too aggressive.

“I am sorry.” He tenderly ran a hand over her cheek. “So very sorry. I did not mean to hurt you.”

She blinked, her golden eyelashes fluttering. “You did not hurt me. Your kisses are delicious.” Her lids hung heavy over pupils glazed with lust as she chewed on her lip.

“What is it then? You can tell me anything.” He traced gentle swirls on her jaw. “You can ask the world of me, and it is yours.”

“Could we play a game?”

Hell yes. “What game? What are the rules?” Not that he gave a shite about rules. He was a willing participant in whatever she conjured.

“To play, we must be naked,” she said.

Without hesitation, his fingers undid his cravat and tossed it to the ground.

She giggled. “Keep track of that because we will need it.”

For bondage? As a blindfold? He hopped from one foot to the other like an excited child. She clasped her hands together and watched him, a wide grin consuming her lovely face .

He was out of his clothing in an instant. He spread his arms wide. “Ready. Your turn.”

“I require some assistance.” She turned her back to him.

He attempted to unbutton her dress with care. Truly, he did. But his fingers trembled, making it impossible to slide the miniature buttons through the minuscule slits. His beast within demanded he yank on the fabric, so he obeyed. Buttons flew, pinging off the furniture. Good thing Lucy was an adept seamstress.

Undaunted by his forceful tug, Charlotte peered over her shoulder and smiled. “My stays.”

This time, he took his time untying each ribbon, enjoying every inch of revealed unblemished skin. Once unfastened, her stays slid to the floor. She stepped over them and faced him.

He hissed as he took in the voluptuous Venus before him. Her full breasts heaved with her breaths. Her soft belly tapered in to a tiny waist, then widened into luscious hips. Those strong hips always took every thrust he offered. His gaze lingered on the mass of curls hiding her quim, before traveling down her soft, sturdy legs that knew how to adeptly cocoon his hips as he slid in and out of her.

His cock twitched. Twitched might not be the correct word. The damn thing danced a blasted jig. She noticed and licked her lips. As if he wasn’t already on fire, her gaze heated his skin another million degrees.

He retrieved his cravat from the pile of discarded clothing and held it up. “Tell me, what is this game?”

“Close your eyes.”

“But then I cannot see you,” he said.

She giggled. “That is the idea.”

He chuckled and closed his lids tight.

“No peeking,” she said.

She nudged him until his back was to her. The silky fabric slid over his eyes. Her breath warmed his neck as she tied the cravat. She led him across the room and encouraged him to sit on the bed, where she left him aching from her loss.

“Where are you going?’ he called after her.

Something rattled. Perchance the items on the tray? His mind went to filthy places. His cock covered in brandy. Honey dripping from her cunny.

Her footsteps were barely audible on the carpet, but he knew she had returned and now stood over him.

“I have placed three dabs of honey on my body. You must find them using only your lips and tongue. Once you find all three, we shall trade places.”

Hah. His Firefly had not yet taken him in her mouth. He suspected she desired to since she salivated every time she looked at his cock. Therefore, he knew exactly where he planned to spread the ambrosia.

“What a genius game,” he said. “Now get down here so I can investigate.”

When she did not immediately sit, he leaped from the bed, wrapped his arms around her, and together they tumbled onto the mattress.

Her effervescent giggles spurred him on as his lips found hers and traveled across her collarbone.

Voila?. Right there behind her ear—honey. She moaned as he sucked her clean.

He trailed kisses down her torso to her breast, taking a nipple into his mouth. Honey . Not only was this game quite amusing, but he was also exceedingly good at it.

He sucked on that pert nipple even after the sap was gone. Grasping his neck, she guided him to her other breast, where he expected he’d find the final glob of syrup.

Alas, it wasn’t there. However, he did not mind in the least. She did not need to be covered in sugar to be sweet. Her flesh was naturally so scrumptious that he could feast on her forever. Therefore, he remained where he was, making love to that breast, coaxing throaty whimpers from her, losing himself in the bliss.

“Hugh,” she whispered, bringing him back to Earth. “You must still find the third place.”

But he was in no hurry. However, his cock and his brain rarely agreed, and the throbbing rod wanted immediate gratification. Perhaps he would coat his entire length in brandy, then place the sap at the tip. Hell, yes. He had to get moving if he was to have his turn before he spent all over the mattress.

In his elusive search, he trailed kisses in a zigzag pattern. Down her torso, he traveled to her navel—which was void of honey. No bother. He would happily continue his search.

His lips brushed her coarse curls, and her hips bucked. “You found it,” she panted out.

Nay, he had not found it, but he must be close. Arrogant arse that he was, he accepted his premature victory.

“I find people and things for a living. So, of course, I can find sweet nectar between my wife’s thighs.”

She exhaled her breathy surrender.

He crawled between her legs and inhaled her intoxicating scent. Musky desire, roses, and ambrosia. He could lap it up and proclaim it was now his turn, which would surely prove to be utterly explosive. Or he could bring her to orgasm first .

The answer was simple. She did so love having her pearl attended to, and he adored devouring her cunny and lapping up her feminine liquids.

He caressed her thighs.

“No hands,” she reminded him.

Fine by him. He peppered her thighs with kisses as she writhed beneath him. He took his time circling those kisses inward until his lips touched her slit. He could not help himself—he twirled the hair at the apex of her womanhood between his fingers.

“Fine. You may use your hands,” she panted.

He figured as much since his wife was easy to persuade when he attended to her luscious little pussy.

He licked his finger and slid it inside that weeping cunny. The second he found the sticky substance, his mouth watered. Starved for her, he parted her nether lips and dipped his tongue into her slick folds.

There, he found what he searched for. His wife was filled with delicious ambrosia. He lapped it up as she moaned her pleasure. Swirling his tongue, he searched for every last drop, licking until all that was left was her natural nectar.

“Oh, Hugh.” Her body tensed.

She was so damn close. He inserted two fingers and curled them as his tongue sought her pearl. Upon finding the sensitive nub, he suckled.

Threading her fingers into his hair, she ground her pelvis against his face. The wet sounds from his feasting mixed with her moans, spurring them into a frenzy. His jaw worked furiously as he sucked harder.

Hips bucking, she screamed his name, and her liquid coated his face. Her internal walls spasmed, milking his tongue and fingers .

By God, she was beautiful.

Once her muscles relaxed, and he was certain she was sated, he untied the cravat and crawled up her body.

She smiled at him. A bolt of love so intense that it knocked the wind from his lungs washed over him.

She stretched long, then threw an arm above her head. “Oh, my. That was heavenly.”

“Quite,” he said.

“’Tis your turn now,” she said.

“Yes. Prepare to be stumped,” he taunted. While bestowing passionate kisses, he secured the cravat across her eyes.