Educating Aphrodite
Kimberly Killion
Two years is too bloody long to be abstinent, especially when one is married to the insatiable Earl of Warwick.
Countess Alexandra Falkner is desperate to rekindle the passion in her marriage. Unfortunately, she lacks the confidence and experience to accomplish her goal. She solicits the help of sexy hypnotist, Vincent Delacroix, to empower her and teach her the art of seduction. What she gets is an education in temptation that leads her heart astray. Will she lose sight of her goal in Delacroix’s arms? Or dare she risk everything to keep them both?
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
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Educating Aphrodite
ISBN 9781419932298
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Educating Aphrodite Copyright © 2011 Kimberly Killion
Edited by Grace Bradley
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book publication January 2011
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Educating Aphrodite
Kimberly Killion
Dedication
I would like to dedicate this book to Grace Bradley, Editor Extraordinaire. Thank you for pursuing me and making me part of the family.
Chapter One
“Have you completely lost your wits?” Vincent Delacroix stood upright behind his pine desk and wrenched his fingers into pitch-black hair. “You’re the bloody Countess of Warwick for God’s sake! A lady of noble breeding. Not a common doxy.”
Unable to hold his boiling black glare, Alexandra twisted her gloves in her lap and blew a white-blonde curl from her eyes. “My husband obviously doesn’t want a lady in his bed.”
“Christ, Alexandra!” His harsh tone indicated his opposition, and she’d yet to tell him the whole of her plan. “Your husband is the proprietor of the Piacere Theatre. Not to mention a close friend.”
“Which is why I came to you.” Perhaps this was madness. Perhaps loneliness drove her toward lunacy, but she was desperate to rekindle the passion in her marriage. Unfortunately, she lacked the courage and experience to accomplish her task without Delacroix’s assistance.
“I cannot begin to fathom why you would go to such measures.”
The light-blue silk choker that matched her eyes seemed to tighten around an expanding knot of frustration. She swallowed it hard and raised her pale lashes to Delacroix. “Sebastian and I have not been…intimate since I conceived Edward.”
The angry lines between Delacroix’s dark brows disappeared. He scrubbed his tightly groomed black beard in obvious astonishment. “Your son is nearly a year old.”
Shame burned her face and stung her eyes. Alexandra bit back the tears and looked down the expanse of her fashionable gold gown trimmed with frills and flounces and lace. At twenty-three, she was fit and well-kept and upheld her role as Countess of Warwick with elegance and grace, but hidden beneath layers of perfumed petticoats was a woman that no longer appealed to her husband. “It has taken me months to accept the fact Sebastian no longer desires me.”
“Forgive me. I did not know.” Delacroix rounded the desk to kneel in front of her. He captured her cold, wringing fingers then raised her hands to his warm lips. He kissed one, then the other, and offered her a sympathetic look that began to tear the thin layer of restraint guarding her temper.
“I don’t want your pity. I want your help.”
“I’ll help you.” His agreement came quicker than she’d expected. “What exactly is it you had in mind?”
Hope swirled behind her breast. She sat up taller. “I want to dance in Saturday night’s performance of Aphrodite.”
Shock widened his dark brown eyes. He stabbed a finger between his cravat and neck and yanked. “You know about the performance?”
“I know everything.” She knew about the actresses slated to dance at the Piacere Theatre. They were the same women who warmed her husband’s bed and satisfied his carnal appetite. “I know Sebastian is playing the role of Adonis and will select the woman who performs in the finale. I also know that same woman will attend him privately the remainder of the night. I want to be the temptress behind the mask who catches his eye.”
Delacroix stood and walked away from her to a side table where he poured himself a hefty noggin of bourbon. “Then you’re willing to defile yourself before an audience.” He angled his chin over his shoulder. “With me.”
Heat crawled up Alexandra’s neck, spread across her face, then scalded the tips of her ears. That was the one obstacle she hadn’t quite figured out how to get around. The literal climactic ending included three players—Aphrodite and her two lovers, Ares and Adonis. More specifically, Sebastian and Delacroix. She’d never been with anyone other than Sebastian. And she’d certainly never been with two men at the same time. But her faithfulness had gained her naught but an empty bed. “I am willing to resort to whatever means are necessary to have my husband back in my bed.”
“Warwick will kill me if I agree to this.” He emptied the contents of his glass in one loud gulp.
“I do not need your permission to take the stage. I own the theater. But I lack the confidence and the experience to play the role, which is why I need you to hypnotize me.”
Delacroix paused for long moments, no doubt contemplating her request.
“Please, Vincent. I cannot continue to live like this. I feel like a widow in the latter months of her mourning period.” This shell of isolation grew colder every day and she feared she would freeze to death waiting for Sebastian to warm her again.
Delacroix exhaled a fierce breath then removed his cravat and waistcoat. “Let it be known that I’m doing this against my better judgment.” He pivoted on his heel and splayed his long fingers toward a fainting couch. “Lie down, Alexandra.”
The single thud of her heart punched her ribs—a final warning. Between that beat and the next, she experienced a frisson of uncertainty. She ignored it and flattened herself atop the burgundy velvet cushion before Delacroix changed his mind.
He started a metronome then sat atop a small stool at her side. “Close your eyes and count backward from one hundred.”
“One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight…” While she counted, he drew tiny circles round and round her palm. The numbers matched the ticking of the metronome, and as seconds passed to minutes, her body seemed to sink deeper and deeper into the cushion. The desire to sleep pulled at her. A thick, heady weight veiled her mind and drew her into blackness.
“Alexandra Falkner, Countess of Warwick, you are under my command.” An echo accompanied his words. “You will accept what I te
ll you as truth. Is that understood?”
Alexandra felt herself nod.
“You are the mistress of your own being. You are seductive and beautiful, elegant and enticing. You will not show fear in the presence of women. Nor will you show insecurity in the company of men. Do you accept your new strengths, Alexandra?”
Again, she nodded. Her pulse beat in time with the ticking as Delacroix continued to empower her.
“’Tis your desire to become the temptress. Nothing will prevent you from achieving your goal. Men will want you. Women will want you. Their attention will arouse you, and you will submit to your body’s demands without reserves. No fear shall hinder you. No qualms will sway you. No sexual act is taboo.”
Tick. Tick. Tick.
“And you will trust me to instruct you until I free you from my control.”
Three loud snaps popped beside her ear.
“Awaken.”
Her eyes snapped open.
“’Tis done,” he announced with confidence.
She sat up and mentally searched for a sign that she’d been transformed. She didn’t feel any different. “How do I know if it worked?”
Half-cocked, Delacroix’s grin was wicked. His dark eyes, sparkling with mischief, slid downward to her breasts. “I s’pose we can test it.”
For reasons she couldn’t explain, she felt uncomfortably attracted to him. “What do you propose?”
“Kiss me.”
“I beg your pardon.” Alexandra blinked repeatedly and opened her mouth to deny him.
This was all the invitation Delacroix needed to press his lips to hers. The spicy taste of liquor accompanied the twirl of his tongue. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, exciting. Tingles spread over her scalp as she stretched her mouth wide to explore his kiss without inhibitions. His beard, both tickly and rough, felt coarse against her skin, but wasn’t altogether unpleasant.
He pulled back slightly, dragging a little of her lip with him, making her think he would end it, then leaned into her again, this time with both hands cupped around her head. His mouth was moist, not wet, soft, yet demanding.
Lost in his kiss, Alexandra didn’t register the hand slipping into her bodice until he squeezed her breast. A sudden rush of desire coursed through her. Her skin flushed hot. Her muscles tightened. And her nipples turned into hard, aching stones.
Delacroix pinched the sensitive bud.
She moaned into his mouth wanting him to do it again, but he pushed her away.
The first sight to grace her eyes once she managed to peel them open was his smug grin. It was the kind of grin a boy wore when he was up to misdoings.
“Unless you were aroused before I kissed you, then I daresay the hypnosis worked exceedingly well. I would wager your pantalettes are already dampening.” A single black brow hitched up his forehead. “Unless, of course, you aren’t wearing any petticoats.”
“Vincent Delacroix!” Alexandra’s response was impulsive—a remnant of the bluenose inside her. “You mustn’t speak such vulgarities in the presence of a lady.”
“Forgive me, Countess Warwick. I was under the impression you no longer wanted to be a lady.” He winked and escorted her to the door. “If we are going to turn you into a temptress by Saturday, then we have much to prepare for.”
She wanted to ask what kind of preparation was involved in such a task, but decided the answer might be more than she could handle.
“I’m going to send a maid to Pendleton to assist you.”
“That will not be necessary. I have a dozen maids.”
“Ah, yes, but none of them are like Daphne. You will find she is quite skilled.”
Chapter Two
Alexandra couldn’t recall everything Delacroix had said to her while she was under hypnosis, but she no longer felt like the sullen victim of her husband’s neglect. Instead, she felt confident and bold and shameless. Just thinking about being with Sebastian again made her body pulse and hum. Or perhaps the sensations burning her skin were a result of the plumeria-scented oil Daphne put in Alexandra’s bath.
“Is the water to your liking, m’lady?” Daphne secured Alexandra’s washed hair atop her head with a pair of gold filigree hairsticks Warwick had brought back from one of his trips abroad.
“The water is fine.” She smiled up at the maid Delacroix had sent earlier that morning—a stunning beauty from Portugal with physical traits opposite her own—olive skin, silky black hair, full lips. The maid’s dark, exotic features mesmerized Alexandra. There was something very sensual about her movements. Something provocative. Something arousing.
Daphne scrubbed Alexandra’s arms and legs, then moved behind her to massage the tension out of her neck until she was completely relaxed.
Alexandra moaned and reveled in Daphne’s attentions. “I must remember to thank Delacroix for sending you to me.”
“I will take much pleasure in preparing you for him.” Daphne slid her soapy hands over Alexandra’s breasts bobbing at the water’s surface, and much to her delighted surprise, the maid began rubbing her nipples. “You are very beautiful, Countess Warwick.”
Awareness awoke, lifting Alexandra’s brows. She’d only experimented with her own sex on one occasion in finishing school, but the girl had been removed from the premise when the headmistress caught her abed with one of the other pupils.
“Are you familiar with my instructions?” Daphne asked, pulling Alexandra back to the present, but that old memory clung to the forefront of her mind.
“Not exactly,” Alexandra admitted and waited for Daphne to explain, but the maid chose to remain mysterious.
“Stand, m’lady, and put your foot on the edge of the tub.”
None of her maids had ever washed her between her legs, but Daphne was clearly not like any of Alexandra’s maids. Once in position, Daphne’s dark eyes locked on the honey-colored patch of wet curls at the apex of Alexandra’s thighs.
A curious spark flickered between her legs.
Men will want you. Women will want you. Their attention will arouse you, and you will submit to your body’s demands without reserves. Delacroix’s words echoed between her ears, and it was then she realized he’d intended for this to happen. He was to blame for this unusual attraction to Daphne, and Alexandra was powerless to fight it. What she didn’t understand was why he wanted her to know a woman’s touch.
When Daphne pushed Alexandra’s knee back and swiped silky fingers across her nether lips, she no longer questioned Delacroix’s agenda. She no longer cared.
Everything inside her swelled instantly. The leg holding her up gave a quick jerk. It had been far too long since anyone had touched her so intimately and the part of Alexandra that had been neglected by her husband hoped Daphne lingered.
She did. She explored Alexandra’s folds with deft fingers, moving back and forth from the peak of her slit to her anus. Alexandra’s heart beat so feverishly, she felt it tapping on the roots of her teeth.
Plenty of women gave her husband pleasure. That single justification allowed her to enjoy this experience without guilt or modesty. She squeezed her own breasts and watched Daphne’s hand disappear between her legs over and over again.
“You like the way I touch you, m’lady?”
Alexandra nodded, unable to speak when Daphne found the aching nub at the apex of Alexandra’s slit. In slow, torturous circles, the woman played with the little bundle of nerves until Alexandra’s panting turned to whimpers.
Then Daphne squeezed it.
Alexandra gasped.
Daphne did it again, this time with a wicked giggle. “I think you are ready, m’lady. Put your hands on the edge now.”
Alexandra bent at the waist, eager to find out what she was ready for. A trickle of hot oil slid down the crevice of her backside.
“At the end of the show,” Daphne said as she circled the orifice, “Delacroix will take you here.” She pushed the tip of her finger into Alexandra’s anus.
She stiffened and white-knuckled
the rim of the tub.
“Relax, m’lady. I need to stretch you.”
“Stretch me?” Alexandra swiveled her head to find Daphne holding a small slender rod of smooth ebony. “What is that?”
“A diletto, m’lady. How you say dildo.” Daphne’s lopsided grin mocked Alexandra’s inexperience, but her naiveté was not what concerned her at the moment. Her eyes widened when she saw two more dildos sitting atop a towel on the floor. One was ribbed and the size of an average cock, the other was much bigger with a conical head.
“Oh my good heavens.”
“I will be gentle.” Daphne caressed Alexandra’s hip and positioned the tip of the small dildo at the entrance to the most private area of her body. Her heart skipped a beat. Her limbs shook instantly. Her eyes pinched tight. It was bound to hurt.
“Easy, m’lady.” Daphne soothed Alexandra with soft words as she moved the false cock in and out of her rectum, inserting a little bit more of its length with every pump.
The pain eased quickly and was replaced with an ache. A primal ache that stripped Alexandra of her timidity. She began rocking back and forth, meeting Daphne’s thrusts halfway.
“You want more?”
“Yes.” The dildo slipped out but was instantly replaced with another one—the one with raised ribbing covering the entire shaft. The tickling and teasing of every bump felt foreign and glorious all at the same time, and Daphne seemed to know how to provide Alexandra with the greatest stimulation.
“Delacroix said I could make you come if that is your desire.”
“Yes. Oh yes. I want that. I want to come.”
Without delay, Daphne reached around Alexandra’s hip and inserted two fingers into her pulsing canal. She pumped in and out, adding a third finger into the mix when the muscles of Alexandra’s sex clenched and quivered.
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