Educating Aphrodite (2 page)

“Enjoy your trip?” Delacroix frowned at Alexandra later that
morning in the alleyway behind the
modiste’s
shop. “Do you expect the
man to read your mind? Had you said what you’d been thinking, Warwick might
have fucked you senseless and we could put this whole travesty behind us.” He
shook his head and blew a frustrated breath. “Are the appropriate words even in
your vocabulary?”

“What words?” Alexandra didn’t care for his patronizing
tone.

“Had you actually been capable of telling Warwick your true
desires, what would you have said to him?”

“I would have asked him to make love to me.”

Delacroix shook his head and waggled his pointer finger. “A
temptress wants to fuck her husband.”

Uncomfortable with the conversation, Alexandra started to
fidget, but deep inside she wanted to learn.

Delacroix held her chin and forced her eyes on him. “Say
it.”

“I want to fuck my husband.” She rushed the words out
quickly.

“Say it again with a bit more enthusiasm.”

“I want to fuck my husband.” That time the words felt
exhilarating.

“What else, Alexandra?” Delacroix prodded.

Heat crept up her neck but she forced it back down. “I want
to suck his cock.”

“Good. What else?”

Alexandra thought about the smooth petals of her womanhood.
“I want him to kiss my…flower garden.”

Delacroix laughed outright, ridiculing her. “Your flower
garden?”

Crossing her arms over her breasts, she tapped her toe. “Is
there a preferred vulgarity?”

A single black brow slid up Delacroix’s forehead. “Cunt. The
word of choice is cunt.”

“Very well. I want my husband to lick my cunt.” She inhaled
and squirmed at the thought.

“You are learning.” Delacroix smacked her backside—hard.

“Ow!” She scowled at him and rubbed her rump thinking the
man was enjoying his position in this whole affair far too much. She couldn’t
help but wonder if he eagerly awaited the moment he would couple with her on
stage. Or was the act so commonplace to him that he gave it little thought?

“Stop frowning. It doesn’t become you.” He smoothed the
wrinkle out of her brow with the tenderness of a born lover. “Come. Let’s see
what Daphne has found for you.”

“Are the costumes not already made for the performance?”

“Yes, but you’ll need something to keep Warwick in your bed
once you get him there.”

When they entered the dressmaker’s shop, the
modiste
—a
thin elderly man—came rushing toward them. Alexandra was thankful they were in
the Boroughs where she wouldn’t be recognized.

“Mr. Delacroix, I’ve already prepared the back room for you
and your lady companions. The lovely Daphne has chosen several articles for you
to admire. Buy as many as you like. Buy them all. I’ll make more.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gibbons. Your hospitality is much
appreciated, as always.” Delacroix led Alexandra through a pair of heavy damask
curtains and into a sweet-smelling dressing chamber. A freestanding mirror sat
beside a large chair in the corner where Delacroix positioned himself.

Alexandra panicked. “Would you not be more comfortable
waiting with the
modiste
?”

“I’m perfectly comfortable here.” He grinned and folded his
hands in his lap.

“Which one?” Daphne held up two lacy corsets—one black, one
red. Hanging from hooks on the wall were matching silk stockings.

“The black one.” He decided and fixed his stare on
Alexandra. “Remove her garments.”

“Mr. Delacroix! Please. This is highly improper,” Alexandra
protested.

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Propriety has no role in
seduction, sweetling. Consider my presence part of your education.”

Daphne turned a grumbling Alexandra away from Delacroix’s
watchful eyes and assisted her out of her attire a layer at a time. First came
the gown, then the camisole, corset, petticoats and crinoline, followed by her
chemise and drawers and garters. Delacroix’s breaths deepened as the pile of
finery grew, but he held his tongue until Daphne rolled the second stocking off
Alexandra’s toes.

“’Tis now clear to me why Warwick made no attempt to seek
out your favors. In the future, wear less. Much less.”

Was he actually chastising her? She’d been stripped of her
garments as well as her dignity, and he thought now was an appropriate time to be
flippant?

“He is trying to be comical,” Daphne explained softly so
Delacroix couldn’t hear her. “He turns into an ignorant ape when he is
nervous.”

“Nervous?” Alexandra’s lips twitched wanting to smile.

Daphne nodded and plucked the black corset off a nearby
table.

“Wait. I want to look at her.”

Oh my good heavens.
The tiny ounce of assurance she’d
gained in knowing Delacroix suffered from nerves vanished with his words. A
fierce blush burned her skin. She cowered and attempted to hide her nudity with
her hands.

“When you are on stage, there will be dozens of eyes on you.
If you are apprehensive here, you will not be able to perform for them.”

“Trust him.” Daphne pulled Alexandra’s hands to her sides
and pushed back her shoulders. “Display your body with pride, m’lady.”

“Turn her around.” Delacroix’s tone took on a dominant edge
and told Alexandra he grew impatient.

Daphne wetted her fingertips before she palmed Alexandra’s
hips and swiveled her around for inspection. Delacroix’s gaze roamed over her
person like hot, licking tongues. Heat seared her insides and only escalated
when Daphne wrapped her arms around Alexandra and began titillating her breasts
with wet, wicked fingers. She rolled her semi-erect nipples in unison, tugging
them repeatedly until they became distended pearls of rose-colored flesh.
Daphne’s hands then descended. She flattened the backs of her fingers against
Alexandra’s inner thighs and presented her freshly waxed mons.

“She is lovely, no?” Daphne asked Delacroix and kissed the
back of Alexandra’s shoulder.

“She is exquisite. You did well.” His smile of approval was
directed at Daphne, and it was then Alexandra realized she, too, wanted to
please him.

“You may now dress the countess.” Delacroix never once
looked away, and Alexandra found his attention stimulating. She wanted someone
to desire her the way Sebastian didn’t. And that someone at the moment was
Delacroix.

He was undeniably a very comely man—broad of shoulder,
heavily muscled and dark. He stood and circled them like a sly fox hunting his
prey, making no effort to hide the erection tenting his trousers.

Daphne tightened the laces of the black corset and propped
Alexandra’s breasts atop the short, rigid cups that were really more like
shelves for they displayed her breasts instead of hiding them. Daphne proceeded
to sheath Alexandra’s legs in black stockings and held them in place with
matching silk garters. With the ensemble complete, Daphne stepped away.

Delacroix took his time studying her. She pretended to be
his equal by holding his stare, but her daring spirit began to wither after
long moments of silence. She lowered her lashes and pinned her chin to her
chest.

“Look at me.” He lifted her chin. “You must exude confidence
at all times. There will be eleven other women on stage with you, but you must
make the audience want
you
. You must make Warwick want you.”

“Do you doubt your skills as a hypnotist?”

He grinned. “I never fail.”

“But what if
I
fail?” She experienced another moment
of trepidation.

“You will not.” Delacroix plucked out the pins binding her
hair and set her before the mirror. “Do you see that woman?”

She looked at her reflection and saw a woman she didn’t
recognize. A woman with shimmering blonde hair and blue eyes that sparkled like
sapphires. She was shapely with pert breasts and porcelain skin. “I see her.”

“She is beautiful. Is she not?”

“She is.” Her chin raised an inch.

He pressed his chest to her back, grabbed her hand and
forced her to caress her cheek with the backs of her fingers. “You are
seductive.”

She drew a deep breath of musk and citrus.

“When you are on stage you must tease the crowd. Touch
yourself and make them wish it was their hand caressing your skin.” His hot
cinnamon breath tickled her collarbone and sent a shiver up her spine.

With Delacroix’s hand guiding her, she traced the column of
her neck, the curve of her breast. “Remember, you are the mistress of your own
being.”

You will not show fear in the presence of women. Nor will
you show insecurity in the company of men.
The remainder of Delacroix’s
silent words rolled through her head, empowering her as her hand glided over
the lacy black corset toward her smooth mound.

Delacroix continued the path with both hands. He curled his
fingers round her inner thighs and encouraged her to part her legs. “Make them
fantasize about what secrets you hide beneath your gown.”

The inferno building between the walls of her womanhood
incinerated her morals. She inhaled a shaky breath. Her head fell back against
his solid chest giving her a glimpse of Daphne watching in the background.

Their attention will arouse you, and you will submit to
your body’s demands without reserves.

Small tremors racked her body. Her calves burned. Her toes
curled.

He kissed his way up her slender neck and nipped her
earlobe. “Since you came to me yesterday, I have thought of little else aside
from taking you during the finale.”

His admission sent a bolt of hot lightning straight through
her core. The part of her yearning for fulfillment wanted him to take her right
now. She covered his hand, now resting beneath her navel, and moved it lower.

His growl hummed against her shoulder as she pushed his two
middle fingers inside her to the third knuckle.

A squeak escaped her throat when he found the erogenous spot
deep in her womb. She succumbed to her body’s needs and watched him pleasure
her in the mirror. He bit the shell of her ear, tightened his hold around her
waist and pressed his hard cock into her backside. “My dearest Alexandra, you
tempt me so.”

She began to pant when he palmed her mound, pushing on her
clit. She bucked against him and squeezed her aching breasts.

A fierce sound rose out of his chest. A muscle flexed in his
jaw. His nostrils flared angrily just before he jerked his hand out of her and
set her aside. “Warwick is a damned fool! If you were mine, I’d fuck you
senseless every night.” Vexed, he unbuttoned his trousers. “Get dressed before
I take you prematurely.” He peeled out of his waistcoat, ripped the cravat off
his neck, then whipped his chin over his shoulder. “Daphne!”

The woman responded immediately. She dropped to her knees
between the V of Delacroix’s legs, pulled his enormous cock out of his trousers
and licked him.

Delacroix’s attentions—both mental and physical—confused
Alexandra. He wanted her, but his loyalty to her husband prevented him from
taking what she so willingly offered. For too long she’d craved the attention
of a man, and now he, too, sought his pleasure elsewhere, the same as her
husband. Was it her lack of skills that drove them away? Would they want her if
she indulged in debauchery?

She’d never taken Sebastian into her mouth. It certainly
wasn’t for lack of want. She’d been raised to believe such acts were reserved
for harlots. But her title and her fortune had brought her more misery than
joy. And if truth be told, she was tired of this cold separation from ecstasy.

Delacroix grunted and wove his hands through Daphne’s silky
black hair. Alexandra craned her neck to watch, curious about the talents other
women had that she obviously did not.

Daphne popped Delacroix’s cock from her mouth. “Do you know
how to please a man with your tongue?”

Alexandra shook her head sheepishly. “’Tis not a skill the
headmistress taught us in finishing school.”

Without breaking the back and forth rhythm of her hand, Daphne
smiled and patted the space beside her. “Delacroix taught me. Now I will teach
you.”

“I’m not a bloody mannequin.” Delacroix frowned at Daphne as
Alexandra knelt on the carpet.

“Shush!” Daphne silenced Delacroix when she angled his cock
so it pointed straight out from his body. “A man will moan when you touch him
here.” Daphne held him with both hands and dipped the tip of her tongue into
his small hole, flitting about delicately, teasing him, before she curled her
tongue around the bulbous, purple head.

“And here.” She fondled his groomed sac, sucked each
testicle before taking them both into her mouth. Next, she licked him with the
flat of her tongue from root to tip, then enfolded her lips over the top of
him. She sucked hard, rotating her head in circular motions, pumping him with
one hand and massaging his scrotum with the other. Then she started the process
over again, never once faltering in her rhythm.

Squirming, Alexandra bit her bottom lip and resisted the
urge to touch herself. She wasn’t a stranger to her own hand, but the nights
she’d gratified herself, she’d done so in private.

“Does it excite you, Alexandra? To watch?” Delacroix’s
question came out raspy.

“It does,” she admitted freely.

“Then pay attention. You won’t want to miss this.” Delacroix
tightened his hold on Daphne’s hair, holding her in place. “Open.”

Alexandra’s eyes were already dry, but she didn’t dare blink
when Daphne cupped his hips and spread her mouth wider. Delacroix held the back
of Daphne’s head and pushed his cock into her throat. Her eyes pinched shut,
but only for a moment until he withdrew. He did it again and again, thrusting a
little deeper each time.

Alexandra might have thought the act cruel if Daphne hadn’t
been the one forcing the remainder of his cock down her throat.