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

www.ellorascave.com

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

The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of
Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not
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Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons,
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characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

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.

“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 tell 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.”

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.

She struggled to breathe. White spots speckled her vision.
Oh God! She was going to swoon. Then Daphne’s wickedly clever thumb spiraled a
maddening circle around her clit. A sizzling jolt zinged up her spine. “Oh! Oh
yes. Don’t stop.”

Daphne repeated the action over and over, all the while
pumping the dildo between Alexandra’s cheeks. “I will save the biggest cock for
tomorrow.”

The thought of repeating this act sent Alexandra over the
precipice. Sensations racked her entire being. She cried out and felt the press
of a kiss on her hip. Her womb fluttered and kicked and exploded into the first
orgasm she’d experienced in over a year.

Daphne eased Alexandra off the edge of bliss slowly then
washed her a final time before offering her a robe. “I think you are clean,
m’lady, but we are not yet finished.” Daphne gestured toward the bed as she
retrieved a small copper pot from the hearth and set it atop the bedside table.

“What is that?” Alexandra’s words broke in her dry throat.

“Wax.”

* * * * *

“Alexandra!” Sebastian bellowed from the library as she and
Daphne were headed toward the front door.

“I will wait in the carriage, m’lady.” Daphne left Alexandra
standing in the open doorway watching her husband frantically rummage through a
heap of clutter atop his massive mahogany desk.

When he caught sight of her, his search ceased. “Where are
my spectacles?”

Alexandra sighed and plucked his glasses off a table beside
the chair facing the hearth. She handed them to him, wishing he would take the
time to brush her fingers or notice the way Daphne had fashioned her hair with
braids and jeweled hair pins, but he did neither.

“Thank you, love.” Calmer, he set them atop his nose and
returned his attention to his desk.

He was a beautiful man. Tall, with wheat-colored hair and
aqua-blue eyes. Beneath his aristocratic clothes lay a sea of muscles and
bronze skin she hadn’t seen in far too long. They’d been married three years,
and Sebastian had come to rely on her to manage the household. But Alexandra no
longer wanted to be the mistress of Pendleton. She wanted to be her husband’s
mistress. She wished he would look at her the way he once had before they fell
into this cold, dismal distance. She wished he would touch her, to give her
some sign of interest that proved he was worth fighting for.

Sebastian tucked a sealed envelope inside his tailcoat and
rounded the desk. Only then did he take in her attire. Daphne had chosen a dark
blue gown dripping with white lace for their outing. The bodice swooped so low
the rims of her rosy nipples nearly peeked out of the silver ribbing.

“Are you going out?” His gaze dropped to her breasts.

Alexandra inhaled with purpose, hoping to entice him. “I’m
going to see the
modiste
about a new corset.”

Sebastian pulled a stack of bank notes from his tan trousers
and stuffed them in her hand. “Buy yourself something beyond your pin money.
I’m going to Lexington to see about a horse. I’ll be back Sunday.”

She knew he lied but held her tongue.

He pecked her cheek with no more passion than he might have
kissed his forty-seven-year-old aunt, then plucked his riding gloves off the
chair and started for the door.

She wanted to scream at him to come back. She wanted to show
him her smooth cunny and tell him she’d agonized beneath the pain of it all for
him. She ground her teeth with such intensity, she feared they would crack.

Damn you! Bend me over the desk and give me a proper
farewell, you blind fool!
These were the words she wanted to speak, but not
the words that came out. “Enjoy your trip, darling,” was all she said as she
watched him disappear into the corridor.