Page 78 of Snowbound Surrender

“Callum, will you do what you did before?”

“Bring you to orgasm?” he asked.

“Is that what it is called?”

“Among other things. Spend.La petite mort. The little death.”

“The little death? That’s rather dramatic, isn’t it?” She smiled slightly.

“The French.” He shrugged as if that explained it all. “Are you needy for another release?”

“Yes,” she hissed the word out with a combination of relief and desperation.

“I would be happy to oblige.” He shifted to kiss down her stomach to her mons.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“Obliging you.” He shot her a wry grin.

“But last time you used your hands.”

“This time I will do something similar but with my tongue instead of my fingers. You will enjoy it. Are you curious?” He didn’t wait for her answer but swiped his tongue through her slit and circled her clit.

The way she gasped and set her heels on the bed to spread her legs wider was answer enough. She was plumped and wet, her body already stoked. Had she become aroused sucking him? The decadent thought made his cock twitch back to life.

She tasted heavenly, and he delved his tongue inside her. Eventually, he worked his way back to her clit. He’d learned she liked it fast with a firm pressure. While he used lips, tongue, and even the occasional nip on her clit with his teeth, he explored her folds with his fingers. Slowly, he inserted a finger in her channel, giving her the chance to protest the intimacy.

She only canted her hips higher as if seeking deeper contact. A second finger joined the first, and he began a slow pumping. He could sense she was close to the brink and finger fucked her harder as he sucked and nipped at her clit.

Her body curled forward an instant before she cried out and pulsed against his mouth. The walls of her channel gripped him as wetness coated his fingers. His touch gentled as her legs fell slack to the bed. He wiped her spend onto her nipples before licking and sucking them.

He rolled off her and collapsed to his back, cuddling her into his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder. His cock was standing at attention once more. It had been neglected for far too long with only his hand as company. He covered them with the quilt, ignoring the pulse of unsatisfied arousal in his own body.

It was still the dark of night, and she grew lax, idly stroking his chest. He closed his eyes and tilted his face into her hair for a deep breath. She smelled feminine and sweet, but now her scent was laced with fulfilled desires. He wanted to remember this moment.

“Do you miss her?” she asked.

The unexpected question had him staring into the shadows of the low, timbered ceiling.

When he didn’t answer immediately, she said, “Of course you miss her. That was a silly question. Excuse my impertinence.”

He could tell she wanted to ask him something else, but she stayed silent. She was as curious about his past as he was about hers. Warmth spread from his heart. “Amelia was a childhood friend. We were well suited to one another.”

What else could he say that didn’t cast a poor light over him? He had cared for Amelia like a brother and hoped it would turn into a lasting love like his parents’, but she hadn’t inspired great passion. Their shared kisses had left him cold and feeling like he was committing incest. He hadn’t hungered after her or dreamed about her in that way.

“Did you and she enjoy a carnal relationship?” The question tripped coming out of her mouth.

“No. She was young and an innocent and more like a sister to me than a sweetheart. There was no question she would come to the marriage bed a virgin.” He remembered her shy curiosity and passion and wondered if he would have been patient enough and able to overcome his own antipathy to please her.

He had assumed they would have the rest of their lives to get to know one another in every way. The sickness that had swept through Northumberland had taken her and his father within days of one another. And he hadn’t been there for either of them.

The letter from his mother detailing his father’s sickness and begging him to make haste home had finally landed in his hands while he was convalescing from his wound in Paris. If it had found him in a timely manner, he would have left before the embarrassing unfortunate incident. It shamed him.

“She died two days before Father of the same fever. I wasn’t here.” It was all he could manage.

“What a terrible twist of fate.” She stroked his chest with a comfort he did not deserve from her or anyone else.

He covered her hand with his to stop her ministrations. “It was a punishment.”