Page 25 of The Prince’s Wallflower Wife (The Wallflower Academy #4)

But this was Daphne. Daphne . His wife, the woman who had been absolutely clear on their wedding night that she was enduring their love-making because it was necessary.

She…surely wasn’t talking about pleasure…was she?

Daphne lifted her eyes and looked directly at him, cheeks blazing, but her expression resolute. ‘I… I want…’

Christoph swallowed, hard. This was just his imagination. He was getting this wrong because he wanted her so badly, wanted to spread her across this table and plunge himself into her. Because he could not be right in his suspicion…could he?

‘Daphne,’ he said—or, more accurately, croaked. ‘Daphne, I think we are at cross purposes. I… Do you mean—?’

‘I ache for you, Christoph,’ she blurted out. ‘For the way you touched me.’

Silence fell between them in the dining room. Silence, save for the ringing in Christoph’s ears, that was.

I ache for you, Christoph. For the way you touched me.

If he had not just heard the syllables drop from her pretty lips, Christoph would not have believed it possible. But he had. And Daphne was sitting there, evidently mortified, and yet she had not lurched away, or fled like a deer in the hunter’s glare.

No, she was sitting there, squirming on her seat.

Christoph’s manhood stiffened. Squirming —as though she wanted…

‘We had rules,’ he said hoarsely.

‘I’m not saying that we break any of them,’ Daphne said breathlessly. ‘And I can’t believe… I never would have thought I would say this, but Christoph, I ache for you.’

Christ, she couldn’t keep saying that! He would burst in his breeches. ‘I… I can help relieve that ache, if you want. If you trust me.’

Daphne looked deep into his eyes—a little afraid, but mostly, yes, that was lust. Dear Heaven help him. ‘Would you do that for me? With…with no expectations?’

I would do anything for you, were the words Christoph wanted to cry out. But he couldn’t. His precious, precious wife was asking something of him that had taken her a great deal of courage, and at any moment she could flee in her embarrassment. He needed to go carefully. Mostly.

‘I would,’ he said, his voice almost a mere whisper.

Christoph rose, pushing back his chair as his mind whirled. So many possibilities, yet so many restrictions. So many things he wanted to do, yet such a great desire to please her without frightening her. How would he do it?

‘You don’t have to… It was a foolish thing to say, forgive me.’ Daphne had evidently misinterpreted his stillness. ‘I should never have…’

‘You can tell me to stop at any point,’ Christoph said quietly, fixing her with a look that silenced her. ‘I’m doing this to please you, Daphne. You are so beautiful. Your body is so…so enticing. As long as what I do pleases you, I… I hope you will let me continue.’

Her eyes were wide and her lips slightly parted as she nodded, evidently confused. She was probably even more confused now, Christoph thought ruefully, when he rose to his feet and clambered over the table.

‘Christoph!’

He grinned as he reached his wife, pulling her out of her chair and lifting her onto the table.

‘Christoph, what are you…?’

Daphne’s voice trailed off as he lowered himself to his feet and knelt before her.

In a moment he was able to hear her voice but not see her face—which was probably all to the good, he thought darkly.

If he was to see the blissful expression of Daphne as he brought her to climax, chances were he would never be able to stop doing it.

‘Christoph, what are you…? Oh.’

Daphne’s voice halted as he very carefully, very gently, reached for the hem of her skirts and lifted them above her knees, layering the luscious material onto her thighs. Her legs quivered—in anticipation, he hoped.

‘So beautiful,’ he murmured.

Christoph wasn’t sure whether his voice was loud enough for her to hear.

Perhaps it didn’t matter. He was faced with the most splendid sight he had ever seen as he gently pressed his palms on Daphne’s knees and parted them, moving her feet apart.

It was impossible to speak any words, now that his throat was so hoarse.

Dear God. She was glistening, her folds dripping with desire. No wonder she had been squirming on her seat. No wonder she ached.

‘Oh, you precious thing,’ he murmured, lowering his head to press a kiss on Daphne’s inner thigh. ‘Let me help you. Let me take care of you.’

Daphne squirmed again at the kiss, or perhaps his words; he wasn’t sure.

All Christoph knew was that her squirming was not aimless.

Her buttocks had moved forward, bringing her centre closer to his face, and Christoph swallowed hard as he readied himself for the tastiest mouthful he had ever experienced in a dining room.

There was a clatter of cutlery the moment Christoph pressed a kiss against the slit of her quim, as though Daphne had suddenly grasped the table.

‘Christoph!’

It was not a cry of disgust, pain or discomfort. It was one of surprise—of delight—and it made Christoph slip his tongue deeper to gain a true taste of the woman he was starting to adore more than anything in the world.

He groaned. God, she tasted incredible: honey and spices, her wet folds parting, welcoming him in.

Daphne’s breathing was quicker. ‘Oh, Christoph, that—that…’

It was his delight to make speech impossible after that.

At least, coherent speech. Daphne’s whimpers, moans, mutters to a deity and cries of his name were precisely what Christoph wanted to hear as he worshipped her quim with his mouth, licking, tasting, sucking and kissing, building a rhythm of sensual delight that eventually brought her hands to his head, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

It was all Christoph could do not to come in his breeches. The scent of her, the taste of her, the knowledge that he was giving her precisely what she wanted, thanks to her tugging his head closer and the mewls of need, were intoxicating.

She was intoxicating.

He had avoided the nub of her pleasure at first, not wishing to overwhelm her with such a sudden climax, but by the rapid, fluttering breathing and twisting moans echoing in Daphne’s lungs, she was ready.

By God, he was ready to give it to her.

Grabbing hold of her hips to ensure she did not buck his face away from her quim, Christoph swirled his tongue inside the depths of her, feeling her insides spasming around him, before lifting it to that nub that he knew would give her ultimate relief, giving her both heavy pressure and a slow circling.

Daphne’s fingers tightened in his hair, her hips suddenly bucking, thrusting wildly into his mouth. ‘Oh, Christoph, yes, yes, yes—eat me!’

And she came apart. It was all Christoph could do to hold onto her, the rush of moisture from her ecstasy almost overwhelming him. The taste was so victorious, the delight in bringing her to climax so achingly sweet.

When eventually Daphne’s hips subsided, her moans quietening, and a gentle relaxation of her hands in his hair suggesting that she had taken her fill, Christoph pulled back from between her thighs with some regret.

‘Christoph?’

Ducking his head, he emerged from her skirts.

Daphne’s face was flushed, her eyes were bright—had he brought her to tears?—and her lips were parted in astonishment.

‘That…that was…’

Christoph grinned up at her. ‘I hope that sorted your appetite.’