“I’ll do better than that, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll show you.”
Chapter Eighteen
With quivering anticipation, Gigi watched Conrad reenter the room. He’d gone to fetch something, refusing to tell her what it was. To her surprise, he had brought in a book.
“This is something I haven’t shown to anyone,” he told her.
When he set the tattered blue volume on the billiards table, she felt her brows rise.
Slanting him a look, she said, “The Naughty Naiad?”
“At the boarding school I attended, one of the lads smuggled it in. He rented it out, and I was rather fascinated by it. A few years ago, I managed to secure a copy.”
He didn’t appear at all embarrassed to be sharing these facts with her. She found his comfort with sexual matters intriguing and arousing. Was there anything more attractive than a fellow who was confident in his own skin? The fact that he was baring his darker side was, frankly, rather thrilling. She liked his honesty—liked that he didn’t try to shield her from who he was.
Moreover, she’d never seen an erotic book before and was dying to take a peep.
“Go ahead and take a look,” he said.
At the roguish challenge in his eyes, she couldn’t resist.
She flipped open the cover, and as she turned the pages, her cheeks flamed. The story featured a beautiful nymph named Pearl and a brawny satyr named Prickonus, and illustrations accompanied the bawdy story. Detailed sketches depicted the pair engaged in all manner of debauchery. The opening chapter, entitled “The Meeting,” was about their first encounter, when Prick caught Pearl spying on him while he bathed. The image of the naked satyr emerging from the pond, water dripping from his massively erect member, sent a thrill of recognition up Gigi’s spine.
Conrad was standing behind her, reading over her shoulder. She was acutely aware of his nearness and heat. His masculine scent tightened a coil in her belly.
“Remind you of anything?” he murmured against her ear.
“The day we met at the stream,” she said breathlessly.
“Uncanny, isn’t it? The moment I laid eyes on you, I saw my fantasy come to life.”
She shivered as he covered her breasts with his large hands. Beneath her shirt, her nipples budded and throbbed at his proprietary touch.
“Keep reading,” he said in a low voice.
She turned the pages, her senses reeling at the depraved words and images. The plot of each story was the same: naughty Pearl would tease the randy satyr until he was beside himself with lust. She would flee, and he would pursue her, hampered by his enormous erection. In the end, he captured her because, Gigi suspected, the clever naiad wanted him to.
Then the truly wicked games would begin, all of them described and drawn in exquisite, titillating detail. Trembling with arousal, Gigi felt Conrad sweep aside her braid, his mouth hot against her neck. He undid her shirt, button by button.
“Enjoy the stories,” he said huskily. “Don’t mind me.”
Her shaky laugh melted into a moan as he caressed her bare breasts, his callused fingers teasing the stiff tips. It was difficult, but she directed her attention back to the book, flipping through images that steamed up her brain.
There was the one of Prick holding Pearl captive against a tree. In one large hand, he pinned her wrists above her head while he impaled her upon his thick staff. Pearl’s back was arched, her expression one of wild ecstasy.
In another picture, Prick had Pearl bent over a rock. Only this time, it wasn’t his member inside her but his tongue. He stabbed that long, pointed organ inside her with voracious rapture as her dew dripped down his face. She returned the favor in the next drawing, in which she was kneeling, her eyes wide as she took the satyr’s rod down her throat.
Image after image bombarded Gigi. Pearl bouncing atop a supine Prick, riding his thick shaft. Prick atop Pearl, her knees hooked over his shoulders, his bulging stones pressing tightly against her mound. The nymph and satyr entwined on the grass, their heads between the other’s thighs, sharing the most lascivious of kisses.
The pair coupled in ways that stretched Gigi’s imagination to its very limits. Yet their joining, while unabashedly physical, wasn’t just that. In each of their locked gazes, she saw a reflection of the other. Their primal need for connection had led them to their true mate, and they no longer had to wander the woods alone. Thinking of Conrad’s dark past, of how lonely his journey must have been without family or people he could count on, she understood why this story had captivated him.
Overwhelmed, Gigi felt Conrad unfasten her trousers, pushing them past her hips. Then he was touching her where she ached. Her head fell back against his shoulder as he fingered her slick crease.
“My own little nymph,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve searched so long for you. And here you are, beautiful and wanton, perfect for me.”
Her breath whooshed from her lungs as he lifted her, setting her on the table facing him. He removed the rest of her clothing, and wild with desire, she helped him. Because, she realized, she’d found her true mate, too.
As Gigi perched on the billiards table, naked and blushing, she was his every fantasy come to life. The lush sweep of her lashes, the rich vibrancy of her irises, her intoxicating form—he’d never seen her match and knew he never would. But it was more than that. He’d shared his private, filthy fantasies with her, and despite her innocence, she’d accepted them. Been aroused by them. What had started off as a game turned into a moment of startling recognition.
