He drummed his fingers idly on the gilded edges of the pages.
“What do you say? Would you like to hear more? Or will you leave this place and never look back?”
Phoebe’s chest burned with shame. She could not fail to realize that she had been caught intrigued. She wished to stay and hear more.
Finally, when she knew she could not keep him waiting any longer, she whispered, “My identity is truly hidden behind my mask?”
“Behind mask and wall, madam. Whoever you are.”
So, she sat down firmly on the bench presented to her in the private chamber, and she heard a low chuckle in response to the wooden creak of her sitting.
“So, you are interested.” It was not a question.
Phoebe said nothing. Her actions had spoken for her, and now all she had to do was sit quietly and wait.
“Well, then, where was I? Ah…”
Chapter Three
“The fair lady laid herself bare,” he read aloud, and Phoebe was immediately hooked, despite her better intentions telling her to flee, to not listen to a single word. “She raised her arms above her head, but the man above her was already prepared to lay worship upon her skin…”
Her breath caught as his voice began to fluster her.
He continued to read. His voice caressed each syllable, causing Phoebe to be simultaneously riveted and uncomfortable.
She despised herself for staying; yet she also cheered herself for being bold enough to remain.
She was acting wildly out of character. Never before had she allowed herself to embody so many contradictions at once. Phoebe knew she ought to stay in a place where she was both entertained and discomforted, but she could not bring herself to stray from the spot.
As the words the gentleman whispered filled her ears, Phoebe smoothed her hands down the folds of her red dress and felt…
Magical.
She recalled Genevieve’s advice earlier in the evening.
Find something magical.
She lounged a little on the seat, allowing her pose to mimic the graceful nonchalance of the gentleman across the divide exhibited. Then, she perked up her ears as he continued reading about the wanton woman and the man who desired her.
I think I have found something special here, in these close quarters. That deep, soft voice is reading to me the things of my dreams, the fantasies I have envisioned in secrecy, yet here, all is out in the open.
Her head began to spin as his voice grew with intensity. He whispered the hero’s words through gritted teeth and moaned softly when the hero inserted himself into the female.
Phoebe’s pulse stuttered and skipped a beat when the man in the story heatedly released himself inside of the heroine. Phoebe’s breathing grew heavy, and she panted as the couple reached their climax together.
“Having spent all her energy, the fair lady collapsed and laid her head back against the pillow. The man drew her into his arms and held her there until sleep overtook them both.”
The reader paused at the conclusion of the scene. Then, in a rough and beautiful voice he asked simply, “What did you think of the story then, my sweet, anonymous listener?”
She did not know what to do.
Her words did not come for a moment. Instead, they tangled up in her throat, leaving her utterly breathless as she processed what she had heard.
Finally, she found her voice and managed to say, “I have read romance books before, but none so… so…”
“So enthusiastic?”
“So blunt,” she corrected, still embarrassed at her own breathlessness. “Not with this sort of… content.”
