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“Tell me more,” he said as he wound the strange little box.
Fixated on the strange instrument he held, her mind drew a blank.
“Does Lord Devon compel your ardor?”
“Hm?”
“Does he excite you?”
“What is that you hold?”
“A Tremoussoir.”
“A what?”
He sat down beside her and placed it at her cunnie. She squealed as the box vibrated against her. He allowed her a breath before replacing it upon her. She wanted to snap her legs shut but couldn’t. The sensation was jarring, and yet...
“Oh....oh!” she cried.
The sensations improved. Yes, much improved. It was an amazing little device.
“Did you wonder what it might have felt like if you had been in Lady Isabella’s place?”
Why was he asking her such a question?
“Did you?”
He pressed the box harder upon her. She shook her head.
“The truth, Miss Herwood.”
She had thanked her stars she had been with Lord Rockwell that evening, but she had also wondered if she could have endured what Lady Isabella had.
“I suppose,” she murmured.
Desire had blossomed once more, and she realized she was being made to spend by an inanimate object.
“He had taken a fancy to you.”
Pleasure rippled through her from the Tremoussoir.
“Did you fancy him?” Rockwell asked.
“Who?”
“Lord Devon.”
She let his question sink in. What was the purpose of this question? She had no wish to talk. She wished to spend.
“That is quite the instrument,” she panted.
“Did you?”
“Did I?”
“Fancy Lord Devon,” he growled.
“No!”
