Snowflake #2
Amelia’s eyes opened, their depths darkened with an awareness that matched his own. Her tongue darted out to catch a drop of juice, inadvertently brushing against his thumb. The contact sent a current of desire through him that was far from simple.
“More?” he asked softly, offering her the remainder of the strawberry.
As she took it from his fingers, her lips closed briefly around them—a seemingly innocent gesture made provocative by the intensity between them. Charles found himself entranced by her mouth, by the sensual pleasure she took in something so ordinary as eating fruit.
He fed her another, then another, each exchange becoming increasingly intimate. The ritual transformed into something primal—the act of providing nourishment, of watching her receive it with such evident enjoyment, stirred his ardor.
Then he felt her hands reach for his falls, opening them with surprising efficiency.
“What do you think you’re doing, Lady Hereford?” he asked with half shock and half hope.
“I thought I’d help you decide on your favorite salacious story, my lord,” she whispered as his erection sprung to life, her warm breath tickling the exposed skin.
A low rumble escaped his throat, his rod twitching at his wife’s attention.
“What did you have in mind, Wife?” he asked, closing his eyes, not daring to dream.
Then he felt her dainty fingers wrap around his girth and squeeze gently, the delicious pressure sending a jolt of pure pleasure through his body.
“Amelia…”
Her hand gently tugged on his member until he was on his knees, bracketing her head. With his breeches pulled down to his knees, Hereford gazed down at his wife, her eyes glazed with lust, and her hand gathering her skirts to reach her bud.
“Amelia… Christ…”
Her fingers moved to tug on his testicles, stroking and examining. The wickedness of the act had blood pooling in his cock. Hereford bit his bottom lip as the sight nearly pushed him over the edge.
Then the damnable woman brushed the sensitive skin of his bollocks with her tongue.
A jolt of arousal thundered through his groin at the shocking sensation.
A beastly groan escaped his throat as Hereford gripped his cock and began to stroke.
His gaze fixed on his wife as her tongue swirled and stroked as if they were the sweetest plums.
“Sweetheart… bloody hell…”
Another thunderbolt of lust crashed through him as his eyes captured the hand that was rubbing her bud. Her moans vibrated through his balls even as his mind wandered between the reality and his heightened senses. A recognition erupted in his mind.
“Snowflake…” he muttered, his eyes flying open and sharpening on Amelia’s flushed face. His wife… the innocent who had cried out in pain when he took her virginity, looked up at him with half-hooded eyes, glazed with lust as she continued to lick his bollocks.
A laugh escaped his mouth while the knowledge of his wife’s mischief and her ministration drove him to his peak.
With a sharp intake of his breath, Hereford exploded in his hand against the hem of his shirt, his body shuddering as it transformed every ounce of pleasure from his wife into a mind-shattering orgasm.
Her tongue slowed and gentled, soothing the rawness that accompanied such a climax.
“Minx, you’ve been fooling me all this time,” he murmured, his voice muffled while he removed his shirt.
Her smile was slow and sweet. “Yes,” she agreed. “And drawing inspiration from you.”
They lay together as their breathing returned to normal, bodies still intertwined, the remnants of their picnic scattered around them. Charles brushed a strand of hair from Amelia’s flushed face, his expression caught between amusement and adoration.
“Snowflake,” he said again, testing the name on his tongue. “I should have known when all the noblemen in her stories were foolish rakes being debauched by bluestockings.”
Amelia’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I must say, my lord, I’m quite impressed that you had the presence of mind to recognize the scenario while in such a compromised position.”
“I’ve always been able to maintain a clear head during difficult situations,” he replied with mock pride. “A skill that serves me well in many circumstances.”
“It’s no wonder you’ve been able to escape all those angry papas and husbands,” she said, chuckling at the memory.
“I’d wondered, what with your violet ink and certain phrasings, but didn’t dare to dream…”
Amelia’s voice was contemplative when she replied, “I thought of you often, you know, while writing those provocative stories.”
“Thank heavens for that,” he murmured. “And here I thought I’d married a proper bluestocking editor.”
“You did,” she said, the tips of her fingers trailing down his chest. “You also married Snowflake. I contain multitudes, my lord.”
“So you do.” His heart swelled as he studied the tiny fluttering of her thick eyelashes. “A crusading journalist, a brilliant author of forbidden literature, and a marchioness who continues to surprise her husband at every turn.
Amelia reached up to trace the line of his jaw. “And you, Lord Hereford. There is more to you as well than merely a reformed rake.”
“I shall deny it until the very end,” he said, capturing her hand in his and kissing her knuckle.
“Is there an aspect of you I have yet to discover?”
“I suppose you’ll have to keep investigating,” he suggested, his smile turning wicked. “I hear you’re quite talented at uncovering secrets.”
“A lifelong pursuit,” she declared solemnly.
“A most peculiar courtship we’ve had,” he observed, linking his fingers through hers. “From arrangement to animosity to… this.”
Amelia laughed, the sound carrying across the meadow. “And what is ‘this’ exactly?”
Charles considered her question. “I can’t find the right words befitting the discovery of love in our forced marriage, uncovering corruption, and publishing scandalous literature. Together.”
“I believe,” she began, her hand playing with the hair on his chest, “that our own story might be the most scandalous one to date if I may say so myself.”
His answering laugh was as warm as the summer sun. “Then by all means, my darling Snowflake, let us not stop being wonderfully scandalous.”
The End