Reading Online Novel

The Last Duchess (The Lennox Series)(129)



To be fair to Lucy’s ability of choosing wisely, he thought Wrotham was taken with Miss North, herself something of a female version of a stick. A very large-breasted stick, but a stick, nonetheless. He suspected she would bend quite nicely, given the opportunity, and he rather enjoyed the notion of Wrotham applying the pressure. Besides, wasn’t it said one could start a fire by rubbing two sticks together?

After several brandies and a deep philosophical discussion of the merits of matrimony, Wrotham declared himself ready for his bed. As he took his leave, he said, “I hope I’m up to Blixford’s task and can pretend a friendship with that rotter, MacDougal. He’s to arrive at my home on the morrow.” His shirt points had wilted during the evening and he was almost animated in his determination to call the blackguard to heel. “I have only to think of dear Jane, and my hope that she and Blixford may take their rightful places in the world, and I most certainly can do whatever is needed.”

Feeling grateful for his friendship, Sherbourne wished him good night and made his way upstairs to his chamber, shared now with Lucy. He dismissed his valet as soon as he had removed his coat and boots, anxious to be alone with his thoughts. And his sleeping wife.

In his shirtsleeves and stockings, he poured himself another brandy and went to the fire, thinking to sit and watch her sleep for a while. Instead, he found a slender book upon the chair. Bound with red ribbons looped through holes cut into the thick paper cover, a fine, elegant script penned across the front read simply, Volume Seven.

He opened the book, began to read, and within moments, he was forced to stop and adjust himself because he grew hard within his tight-fitting breeches. He read on, and looked at her drawings, and could only wonder at her imagination. By the time he reached the end of the story –and it was, truly, a love story –he was so aroused, he couldn’t let it be, yet didn’t wish to simply take himself in hand and be done with it. He wanted Lucy beneath him.

He woke her up and took her within the minute, her half asleep and he absolutely, incredibly explosive with need. That she climaxed was a miracle, for he’d given her almost no time.

In the aftermath, he whispered in the dim glow of the room, lit only by the dying fire, “I’m in awe, my love. I had no notion you have such an artistic talent, and your ability to pen a lovely story is tremendous, but truly, what bowls me over is your imagination. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that book was written and drawn by a courtesan, with years upon years of experience. What a strange little thing you are, and what an amazing mind.”

“You liked it, then?”

“Lucy, I’ve just assaulted you in your sleep, I became so aroused. I much more than liked it –I loved it. Will you allow me to read the first six volumes?”

“Do you really wish to, or are you only being kind?”

“I really wish to.”

“Very well. Suppose you read one, each night, rather than all at once? I find after a time, one becomes a bit numb and the story loses its power.”

“I will read them as you give them to me, and be delighted.”

They settled into the bed and began to drift into slumber, until he asked, in the darkness, “When did you write Volume Seven?”

“Three years ago. Why?”

He grinned and pulled her closer. “I noted the count’s face bears a remarkable resemblance to someone I see in the glass every morning. I wonder why?”

She didn’t answer for a while. He thought perhaps she’d fallen asleep, but suddenly, she said, “I wanted perfection. The count was invented for my enjoyment, and I had the ability to make him any way I chose. I’d guess your face was fixed firmly in my mind as one of perfection, and so it wound up belonging to the count as well. Does this bother you, Sherbourne?”

He chuckled. “Not in the least. I’m not too old to respond to flattery, and really, Lucy, that’s about as good as it gets. I do have to wonder, however, where you ever saw a cock that large? Surely Bonderant was not so well endowed?”

“No, he was not. I’ve never seen any other than his and yours, so the answer, of course, is nowhere have I seen such. I made it up. As I said, the count was my idea of perfection, though it took me a very long time to get his legs right. They were always out of proportion.”

“I don’t wonder. To support such masculinity, a man would need legs of iron.” He considered his next question and despised himself for asking, but was compelled. “Lucy, is it ever a disappointment to you that—”

“Oh, good heavens, Sherbourne! I knew I shouldn’t let you read my books, because this was sure to be a problem.” She pushed him to his back and moved to lie on top of him, her toes tickling his shins. “I know there is no man of that size, just as I know it’s impossible for two human beings, regardless of how fit, or carnal, to engage in that much lovemaking, or employ such novel approaches and positions. It’s a fantasy, husband, and you’ll admit, your own fantasies bear little resemblance to reality. Were you to draw yours out, I’d guess your countess would have breasts so large, they’d smother her lover, and if you were truly honest, the count’s cock would be as big as my count’s, perhaps bigger.”