Educating Aphrodite (4 page)

“And again,” he whispered in a silky timbre as he drew her
rock-hard clit between his teeth.

One rippling sensation followed another and another until
she no longer recognized the sound of her own cries. She’d never known such
suffering, such sweet delicious torment. ’Twas beautiful.

He kissed the inside of each thigh, then rimmed her naval as
he crawled up the length of her body, nipping her breasts along the way. He
laced his fingers through hers beside her head and kissed her, sharing the
spicy taste of her desire for him. She never wanted to leave this surreal
place. Not now, not ever.

“What next?” she heard him ask through the drone in her
head.

Drugged with desire, her eyes slid to half open. Candle
flame flickered in his eyes near black with hunger.

“What’s next, sweetling?” he asked again, his voice raspy,
pained. The head of his cock pushed at her slick opening.

Unlike him, she wouldn’t make him beg for it. She squeezed
his fingers in preparation. “Fuck me.”

He grinned at her choice of words and buried himself to the
hilt in one powerful thrust.

“Oh yes,” she hissed and felt the twisting fever coil around
her canal. He was so thick, so full, so utterly perfect. She wanted more.
“Again.” She spread her legs wider to accept the next and the next and the
next.

She lost track of the world, lost count of his thrusts. He
inflamed her, made her feel treasured, yet in some distant part of her mind,
she knew this was wrong. Knowing her husband sought his pleasure with another
pushed those feelings of guilt away from her heart and her mind.

“Vincent,” she whispered, testing his name on her lips. She
liked it, and said it again and again.

He pulled her off the bed without breaking the connection
between their bodies and cupped her bottom with rigid fingers, spreading her
cheeks and lips apart. “Hold on.”

She curled her legs around his waist and clung to his wet
neck as he slammed her full weight atop his cock. He groaned, shook, seemingly
crazed, and impaled her over and over. The speed at which he performed created
a friction like none she’d ever known. She would surely combust.

“Come with me.”

Again? She thought it impossible for her to experience
another climax until he held her with one hand and popped the beads out of her
anus. Her nails dug into his shoulders, her inner walls tightened, flexed,
clenched, released. She held her breath as another mind-numbing orgasm overtook
her being.

Her release initiated his.

“Oh Christ!” He gripped her hips, fingertips digging into
soft skin, and slammed her against him a final time. His roar feral, his stance
unwavering, he pumped his hot seed against the wall of her womb.

They fell atop the mattress in a wet bundle of locked limbs.
Chest heaving, he held her atop him and kissed her with a passion that made her
heart ache. She lay with him as one, his member still inside her, and savored
the aftermath. The silence. The musky aroma of sated sex. The tender tingling
of her satisfied body.

He brushed her hair away from her neck and kissed her throat
where her pulse still beat strong and wild. His hands glided over her ribs and
massaged her backside, then as sly as a thief in the night, he slipped the gold
balls back in her rectum.

“Alexandra.” His cock stirred to life inside her.

Her head popped off his chest, eyes wide in disbelief.

A black brow hitched up his forehead. “What’s next?”

“Ten minutes to curtain!”

Freshly waxed with the gold balls in place, Alexandra stood
before a mirror in a chaotic dressing room. Pale-blonde curls cascaded over
bare shoulders dusted with shimmering powder. Light rouge accented her
cheekbones below her white mask and pink glossed her lips.

I must be completely mad.

The knot in her throat was the only thing keeping her from
vomiting. “I cannot do this.”

Daphne brushed color around Alexandra’s breasts to emphasize
their fullness and added a beauty mark to match the one above her lip. “You
want your husband back?”

Alexandra nodded. The night she’d spent with Vincent had
been magical, and one she would hold dear in her memory forever, but she
couldn’t have them both. “Warwick is my husband, and I’ve loved him since I was
eighteen years old.”

The words came easy and pricked her heart like a sharp
needle. Part of her wished she didn’t love him. If that were the case, she
would divorce him and follow Vincent to the ends of the earth. The latter
wasn’t even a possibility. She could never leave her son.

“He loves you too.” Daphne’s smile shone in her dark eyes
behind her lavender mask. “You must remind him of as much, and all will be
right, m’lady.”

Alexandra drew a shaky breath and nodded again.

Daphne snatched Alexandra’s white silk sash off the dressing
table and held it beneath her dark eyes. “Become the temptress and win back
your husband’s affection.”

Let nothing prevent you from achieving your goal
, she
chanted Delacroix’s words and felt inspired by them.

“Five minutes!”

The dancers rushed to the stage and peeked through the slits
in the curtain. Alexandra followed, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sebastian, but
the sight that greeted her pushed the anxiety back into her throat. The aisles
overflowed with men—and even some women—all masked to hide their identity. She
might have judged them, but she had too many secret desires of her own to play
the hypocrite.

Flashes of skin and untamed kisses sprung forth in her
mind’s eye—reminders of the dreams she’d had over the past few days. Lips and
tongues and entwined limbs, but not just Sebastian and Vincent. Daphne had
found a place in Alexandra’s fantasies as well.

“That one. Fifth row. Blue mask.” Gemma pointed. “Katrina
saw him unmasked in his carriage. Said he was the Marquess of Radcliffe. I’m
claiming him.”

“Percy Livingston?” Alexandra knew the name. The boy
couldn’t be more than fifteen years of age.

“I want that one.” Lydia spoke her claim and pointed. “Gold
mask, talking to Delacroix.”

“You cannot have
him
,” Katrina replied to Lydia, but
her eyes were on Alexandra. “He is Adonis.”

As Delacroix would soon reveal, Adonis was one of
Aphrodite’s many lovers. But here, in this time and place, the subject in
question was Alexandra’s husband.

She craned her neck and found Sebastian. Standing inches
taller than Delacroix, he wore stylish layers; black tailcoat, crisp white
shirt, gold damask vest with matching cravat. He was broad of shoulder,
distinguished and completely unaware of what she’d planned for him after the
finale.

When Delacroix left Sebastian’s company, his attention
shifted to the curtain.

Alexandra ducked out of sight, forgetting she wore a mask.

“I can have him if he chooses me.” Lydia’s comment spiked
Alexandra’s temper. She strangled the silk in her hands and opened her mouth to
lay a claim of her own, but Daphne dragged her away from the others.

“He will choose you,” Daphne assured her as Delacroix
entered backstage sporting a crimson vest and blood-red mask.

“Ladies, where are your silks? I’m giving the monologue in
one minute.” Full of pomp and grandeur, he had the air of a noble and a swagger
that heated Alexandra’s blood. He set his hand at the small of her back, leaned
down and kissed the corner of her jaw without regard for onlookers. “You look
stunning, sweetling. Are you ready?”

“I am.” Her gaze dropped to the front of his trousers. “Are
you?”

“I will be.” He winked at her and as foolish as it was, her
heart fluttered. “Find me during the dance. I’ll be wounded if you give all
your attention to him.” He smacked her rump, reminding her she wore his gift,
then pulled away from her.

“Vincent.” She caught his arm. “I want you to leave London
for a while after tonight. I worry about what Warwick will do after I reveal my
identity to him.”

“He’ll come after me,” Delacroix answered without fear.

“I’ll never forgive myself if he kills you.”

The fool grinned. “You are worth dying for.” He kissed her
soundly, then disappeared through the slit in the curtain.

The single beat of a drum silenced the audience. A
shimmering crescendo of cymbals led up to the tick, tick, tick of the
metronome.

“Gentlemen, ladies, honored guests.” Delacroix held a
dramatic pause, then shouted, “Welcome to Mount Olympus!”

A roar shook the floor beneath Alexandra’s slippered feet.

“I am Ares, the god of war. My lust for blood is my curse,
but my desire to know the touch of one woman has become my obsession. You know
her as Aphrodite, the goddess of love, beauty and sexual rapture. She has but
one divine duty; to make love and inspire others to do the same. She is loved
by many, but none more than the mortal, Adonis.”

Alexandra held her position behind the curtain, but pinched
her eyes tight to hold her emotions at bay.

“I have no fear of this man. I am a god and invisible to his
mortal eyes. But I must rely on him, for I know not the image of my new
obsession. I will follow Adonis to the temple at the summit of Acrocorinth
where ’tis said Aphrodite has retreated with her priestesses to learn the art
of seduction.”

Alexandra shared a secret smile with Daphne and suddenly
felt in control of her senses.

“If you choose to follow us, I bid you fair warning. You
will never witness a spectacle more alluring than the one I shall give you
tonight.” The cymbals began their climb. “Prepare to be enraptured, titillated
and aroused. Cast aside your blushes and embrace the beauty of desire. For your
pleasure, I give you
Aphrodite
.”

The curtains rose. The music erupted. And the dance began.
Colored lights, wisps of flowing silk, the unyielding attention of her husband
and her lover emboldened her, set her free to seize her passion for life, for
love, for them.

Lungs burning, feet twirling, Alexandra never missed a
single step as she followed the music to a high crescendo in the third act.
Then the performance ended on a final heart-jerking beat.

Roars lifted the ceiling. A standing ovation followed. Chest
heaving, Alexandra knelt in position at center stage and gathered her breath
through the long stretch of applause. Pride burned like an August sun behind
her breast. She was not one to boast, but she’d danced as if she’d
choreographed the steps herself.

“Bravo!”

She raised her lashes and found Vincent at the base of the
stage left steps. She returned his approving smile with one of her own and
mouthed, “Thank you.”

He nodded once, then his gaze moved across the stage.

Her smile fell when she saw Sebastian climbing the stage
right steps. The glowing heat inside her shifted to icy anxiety. The audience
returned to their seats to await the finale. Music struck up again, seeming to
possess a soul of its own.

Alexandra trembled to the marrow in her bones as Sebastian
circled each woman—searching for Aphrodite.

I am here
, she cried silently, but remained
stone-still, staring at the wood grain in the planked floor.

Then polished black boots paused in front of her. A strong
hand lifted her chin and brought her to her feet. Sebastian’s blue eyes were
not dull and distant as they’d been during these cold months of separation.
Instead, they sparkled like white-hot diamonds.

He blinked, breaking the spell, then touched her mouth with
the tips of two fingers.

Her pulse raced, her heart whispered,
Choose me
.

When he cradled her head and gently pressed his warm lips to
hers, that glowing sun returned to her chest and exploded. She didn’t care if
it was part of the act. She didn’t even care that he thought her another. She
had the confidence and the desire to pleasure him like no other woman had
before her. And when he discovered the identity of the woman he’d chosen, he
would want no other in his bed beside his wife.

Daphne led the others offstage as Vincent stepped to
Alexandra’s side. Mimicking Sebastian, Vincent cradled her head and kissed her
as well. His kiss, however, was not as gentle and left her tingling with
anticipation.

They held her hands, took a step to the side, and presented
her to the audience. Another round of cheers thundered throughout the theatre
and lengthened Alexandra’s spine.

When the applause subsided, Sebastian and Vincent walked a
half circle ‘round her, turning her away from the audience. They mirrored one
another’s actions. Each pulled the laces of her corset through the eyelets
until it fell away from her body. In unison, they released the bows at her
hips. Her skirt pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but the gold chain
around her waist.

The theatre went black.

Silence hung for short seconds before a bow skirled across a
string instrument, carrying a note from silent to ear-piercing. The drums began
anew, beating wild this time, unrestrained, violent. The hair at Alexandra’s
nape prickled as she stood naked in the darkness. A cool breeze blew across her
sweat-slick skin, tightening her nipples. She reached out in search of Sebastian
or Vincent, but neither was near.

Light ignited in front of her, startling her, blinding her
for the briefest of moments. A white silk curtain now circled the stage,
providing a mockery of privacy. Their every movement would be silhouetted by
the bright gas lights beaming at the back of the stage. Before her sat a large
square mattress atop a dais raised three steps above the stage.

Two sets of strong arms lifted her atop the platform. A
moment of trepidation widened her eyes behind her mask.
Was this really
going to happen?

Sebastian appeared at her side—gloriously naked, save for
his gold mask. Fingertips brushed her opposite arm. She turned and found
Vincent in the same state of undress. Both looked like the hewn-cut sculptures
of the Greek gods they portrayed, and both presented her with a straining
erection, slightly curved, thick-veined, heads shining with pre-come.

Fire coiled low in her belly. This was really going to
happen. Here, now, and with witnesses. She accepted the reality of it with enthusiasm
as juices flooded her cunt in preparation and wetted the inside of her thighs.
Her mouth watered. Her palms itched. Eager, she didn’t wait for their
instruction. Instead, she reached out and wrapped her greedy fingers around
their cocks.

“Oh bloody fuck!” Sebastian flinched.

Vincent grinned.

And the crowd gasped behind them.

“I’m just a mortal, love.” Sebastian pried her fingers off
his cock. “You must be gentle. I’ve saved myself for this, unlike others I
suspect.” The glare he tossed at Vincent set off an alarm in her head.

He couldn’t possibly know she’d been with Vincent. Could he?

“I gratified myself before the performance. You should have
done the same.” Vincent’s reply provided her some semblance of relief, but
guilt surfaced. It sat heavy on her conscience as they guided her arms above
her head.

“You’re going to want to hold on, sweetling,” Vincent
suggested with a wink and hooked her fingers over a trapeze bar hanging from
the ceiling.

They worked simultaneously, each kissing his way down either
side of her body. They were so in sync with one another’s actions, Alexandra
wondered if they’d rehearsed the act, then they sucked her breasts into their
mouths, and she didn’t wonder anything at all. All thoughts fled her mind,
freeing her to enjoy their attention.

Sebastian drew her nipple between his teeth, softly at
first, but his mouth quickly became as fierce as Vincent’s. Her hold on the bar
tightened as four hands caressed her skin, eight fingers sought all those
places that made her whimper and moan—her back, her navel, the sensitive flesh
just above her hairless sex.

Her legs spread wider. She pinched her eyes tight behind the
mask and panted, waiting impatiently for one of them to ease the burning
between her thighs. Sebastian answered her silent plea when he plunged his
index finger deep inside her and located that spot that liquefied her bones.

She nearly buckled at the knees. She wanted to cry out, but
feared Sebastian would recognize her voice, so she laid her head against
Vincent’s shoulder and filled her mouth with his tongue.

Sebastian played with that ball of flesh inside her. He
stroked it side to side, circled it, then applied pressure to it until her tiny
muscles sucked at his fingers in response.

She felt her climax rise. Her insides clenched. She was
going to come.

“Not yet, love.” He withdrew his finger, leaving her
frustrated. “I want to taste you when you spill.”

As Sebastian sat on the mattress between her legs, Vincent
pulled her arms off the bar and wrapped one around his thick, corded neck.
Shifting her hair to the side, he leaned into her ear. “Tell him what you want.
Use the words I taught you.”

Alexandra set her foot atop her husband’s shoulder and wove
her fingers into his golden hair, pulling him closer to that painful ache
inside her. “Lick my cunt,” she demanded in a voice she didn’t recognize.

Sebastian swiped his tongue between her slick, smooth nether
lips, sending her up on her toes.