"Oh, Charles," moaned Harriet, her slender fingers running through his russet hair as his lips glided along her skin. He looked up quickly, noticing she had bitten the corner of her lip lightly. He chuckled gently against her collarbone as she moaned, feeling a great sense of satisfaction as she emitted the moan. Well, at least he hadn't lost his touch in the year they'd been married. Being able to pleasure his wife so made him feel quite the lover. In fact, he didn't even seem to mind that he was unable to have any woman he wanted in his bed anymore. Every encounter with her felt new and even more enthralling than the last. "If I didn't tease you, then who would? Besides, as your wife, it is my given right." Charles pulled away from the trail of kisses to look at her in the eye, fighting back a smirk.
"Well, I certainly don't need to be teased," he countered, regardless of the fact that he really did enjoy this game of teasing, a bit cat-and-mouse like with the two of them constantly changing roles. "Besides, I do not remember agreeing to being teased when I married you, love." He kissed her again on the neck and then pulled away from her lips, smirking. Harriet narrowed her eyes slightly at him, feigning annoyance at him.
"Now who's the tease?" she murmured, resting her head against his shoulder lightly. As he partially undressed and looked out of the window, he could feel Harriet bury her face into his shoulder and smirk. Obviously, she knew just what he was doing. It didn't matter, however. He just meant to get her worked up and had succeeded, or at least it seemed so. Suddenly, Harriet started to undo her cloak and tossed it on top of his overcoat. Charles raised an eyebrow and looked over at his wife, confused for a few moments. In a few heartbeats, she gracefully straddled him, smiling down at him in a way that made a wave of desire crash over him. Her nimble fingers undid the remainder of the buttons on Charles' tunic, exposing his abdominals. He grinned back up at her and slowly sat up, letting the tunic fall off of his shoulders and settle behind him, uncovering the remainder of his upper body.
Without warning, the carriage jolted forward and she fell into him. Their laughs mingled together as she shook her head and slowly pulled herself back up to sitting position on his lap, straddling him still. Her eyes settled upon the basket she'd set in the carriage earlier. She moved it to the seat beside them and, from it, she produced a small parcel. She slowly unwrapped it and Charles watched closely, setting his hands on her waist affectionately. Harriet pulled out a piece of bacon then and broke one in half. She moved the bacon toward him and placed it a few millimeters from his lips, waiting for him to make a move. Smirking, Charles slowly leaned forward and pressed his lips against the bacon. Parting them, he grabbed the rasher with his teeth and pulled it from her fingers in a way that he managed to make enticing and, somehow, attractive. In a painfully slow manner, he chewed up the rasher and then swallowed it, never breaking eye contact with Harriet. The bacon was wonderful, cooked to just about perfection. He moaned gently, though it was quite hard to tell if it was from the bacon or the fact that his wife was situated on his lap.
Removing one hand from her waist, he picked up the other half of the bacon and placed one end between his teeth. Leaning forward, Charles held the other end a short distance from Harriet's lips. The corners of his lips turned upward slightly in a grin. Yes, he did love these games of cat-and-mouse, even though he would never admit it.