Page 72 of Charlotte's Kisses

“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 exceedinglygood 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.