Educating Aphrodite Read Free Page A

conversation, Alexandra started to
fidget, but deep inside she wanted to learn.
    Delacroix held her chin and forced her eyes on him. “Say
it.”
    “I want to fuck my husband.” She rushed the words out
quickly.
    “Say it again with a bit more enthusiasm.”
    “I want to fuck my husband.” That time the words felt
exhilarating.
    “What else, Alexandra?” Delacroix prodded.
    Heat crept up her neck but she forced it back down. “I want
to suck his cock.”
    “Good. What else?”
    Alexandra thought about the smooth petals of her womanhood.
“I want him to kiss my…flower garden.”
    Delacroix laughed outright, ridiculing her. “Your flower
garden?”
    Crossing her arms over her breasts, she tapped her toe. “Is
there a preferred vulgarity?”
    A single black brow slid up Delacroix’s forehead. “Cunt. The
word of choice is cunt.”
    “Very well. I want my husband to lick my cunt.” She inhaled
and squirmed at the thought.
    “You are learning.” Delacroix smacked her backside—hard.
    “Ow!” She scowled at him and rubbed her rump thinking the
man was enjoying his position in this whole affair far too much. She couldn’t
help but wonder if he eagerly awaited the moment he would couple with her on
stage. Or was the act so commonplace to him that he gave it little thought?
    “Stop frowning. It doesn’t become you.” He smoothed the
wrinkle out of her brow with the tenderness of a born lover. “Come. Let’s see
what Daphne has found for you.”
    “Are the costumes not already made for the performance?”
    “Yes, but you’ll need something to keep Warwick in your bed
once you get him there.”
    When they entered the dressmaker’s shop, the modiste —a
thin elderly man—came rushing toward them. Alexandra was thankful they were in
the Boroughs where she wouldn’t be recognized.
    “Mr. Delacroix, I’ve already prepared the back room for you
and your lady companions. The lovely Daphne has chosen several articles for you
to admire. Buy as many as you like. Buy them all. I’ll make more.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Gibbons. Your hospitality is much
appreciated, as always.” Delacroix led Alexandra through a pair of heavy damask
curtains and into a sweet-smelling dressing chamber. A freestanding mirror sat
beside a large chair in the corner where Delacroix positioned himself.
    Alexandra panicked. “Would you not be more comfortable
waiting with the modiste ?”
    “I’m perfectly comfortable here.” He grinned and folded his
hands in his lap.
    “Which one?” Daphne held up two lacy corsets—one black, one
red. Hanging from hooks on the wall were matching silk stockings.
    “The black one.” He decided and fixed his stare on
Alexandra. “Remove her garments.”
    “Mr. Delacroix! Please. This is highly improper,” Alexandra
protested.
    He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Propriety has no role in
seduction, sweetling. Consider my presence part of your education.”
    Daphne turned a grumbling Alexandra away from Delacroix’s
watchful eyes and assisted her out of her attire a layer at a time. First came
the gown, then the camisole, corset, petticoats and crinoline, followed by her
chemise and drawers and garters. Delacroix’s breaths deepened as the pile of
finery grew, but he held his tongue until Daphne rolled the second stocking off
Alexandra’s toes.
    “’Tis now clear to me why Warwick made no attempt to seek
out your favors. In the future, wear less. Much less.”
    Was he actually chastising her? She’d been stripped of her
garments as well as her dignity, and he thought now was an appropriate time to be
flippant?
    “He is trying to be comical,” Daphne explained softly so
Delacroix couldn’t hear her. “He turns into an ignorant ape when he is
nervous.”
    “Nervous?” Alexandra’s lips twitched wanting to smile.
    Daphne nodded and plucked the black corset off a nearby
table.
    “Wait. I want to look at her.”
    Oh my good heavens. The tiny ounce of assurance she’d
gained in knowing