The first page announced that this was a volume titledCytherean Tales.
That alone made him blink. He knew the word…Cythereawas another appellation of Aphrodite or Venus. It was an alternate way of describing the goddess of love, and had been subverted into a description of women…mistresses mostly.
The subtitle confirmed it.Diverse Stories of Women Empowered to Choose.
Good God.
He turned the page. Lady Corinth. An interesting pen-name, to be sure. Again it betrayed the potentially erotic nature of the work, and James found himself with slightly sweaty palms as he turned the page and began to read.
Sure enough, the content grew more and more sensual, leading to passages that shocked even him.
He had to read those several times, just to make sure, aware that they were affecting him quite strongly.
Unfastening his breeches, he read on.
There were notations all over the place; clearly the suggested changes or comments from the publishers. He ignored those. The story had drawn him in, and as he paused for a sip of brandy, he realized why so much work had already been performed on it. The publisher had a treasure here…a goldmine, if James was any judge of the matter.
There were four sections, each devoted to a woman who had chosen to join the demi-monde for a variety of reasons. Once in the House of Cytherea, they were schooled and dressed, becoming well-read women of the world, with skills that augmented their sexual expertise. Then each was “presented” to the Ton, and eager applicants for her favors were screened, then finally auditioned. The winner got the goods, as it were.
James couldn’t put it down.
The women were well-drawn, each different but interesting, and the men depicted in a frighteningly accurate way. He had to wonder how that had happened, since Letitia had been cocooned at Ridlington for most of her life.
Then again, she was also describing erotic scenes about which she also should have known nothing. He made a note to himself to investigate Edmund’s library at the earliest opportunity.
Reading on, it seemed that the room grew warm…coincidentally at the time Miss Susan Sweetsilk was luring Lord Strongstaff into her web of sexual desires. She danced for him, then succeeded in tying his wrists behind him, at which point she revealed her breasts to him—inches away from his hungry lips.
James licked his own lips, bypassed the description of Lord Strongstaff’s…er…staff, and finished his brandy in one swallow.
It wasn’t so much the lascivious nature of these tales, or even the excellent writing of such scenes that was affecting him so forcefully. It was the thought of Letitia writing them that aroused his own staff to the point of pain.
Did she write at night? By candlelight in her room, much as he was reading her words right now? In her night robe, perhaps, or over those warm summer nights, just a loose chemise?
Did she let that soft hair down to tumble over her shoulders and caress her naked arm as she penned the vision of Mistress Dove arranging Sir Woodward Peregrine’s cock within her bosom, the easier to bring him to his completion?
God Almighty, he was hard as iron.
Finishing the final chapter, he closed the book and stood, tearing his clothes away from his body. They itched, irritated skin that seemed to burn with an inner fire.
He wanted. He needed. He desired that damn woman more than he’d ever realized. This book, this revelation of what she held inside, had shown him that his affections were more than a polite wish for her as his wife.
He lusted. Paul was right. He wanted her in his bed, underneath him, screaming out his name as he fucked her every which way he could think of. Then they’d rest, read a couple of chapters of her book, and do it all over again.
His cock throbbed, his spine tingled and he took himself in hand. It had been quite some time since he’d lost control of himself this way, but tonight…the book…thoughts of Letitia mingling with the visions she’d created—it was all too much.
He surrendered, and with a few firm strokes found his release. It brought him a measure of physical relief along with a slightly embarrassed sensation.
But one thought remained uppermost in his mind.
He was going to have Letitia, and it had to be sooner rather than later. Faint heart and all that.
Paul had been absolutely right.
