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Oh!A lady was poised on her knees, a gentleman’s large phallus in her mouth. The man’s expression was that of acute gratification. The lady herself looked pleased…powerful as if in giving him this pleasure she stole a piece of his soul. In another picture, the woman was lowered to her elbows, her buttocks arched into the air with the man kneeled behind her and said phallus seemingly disappearing into her body.
Dear God.
Was this why Oscar avoided her bed, because he wanted this? For in all of Prue’s wildest imaginings, she had never even conceived of such a notion during bedding.
For a moment, Prue allowed herself to imagine being clasped in her husband’s arms. Her fingers threading through his dark, silky hair; her body pressed against his as passionate hands stroked and molded the shapes of her breasts, hips, and that place between her thighs.
Prue stood and walked over to the window, resting her forehead against the cool pane. “Can I really seduce my own husband?”
“You must—” a soft voice said firmly behind her.
“Charity… I…”
“You must Prue. I can tell that you have been discontented. Theo knew it as well, but we wanted to give you space to breathe until you were ready to confide in us. I am daring you, and I will be putting up our dare on the wager board.”
Prue’s hand fluttered to rest over her heart. What would it be like to be touched and cherished with intimacy? She shifted so she could see her friend and smile. “I accept your dare.”
Charity gasped and sent her a delighted grin. “No half measures.”
“None,” Prue said with a laugh.
They chatted some more and perused the naughty book before Agatha and Harriet went to their fencing lesson. Lucinda went to the card room where a few ladies gambled, and Charity had gone to write her name beside a dare. The one that everyone had been avoiding for it was unspeakably reckless…to sneak into a man’s home and steal love letters back for the lady who had sent them.
Tucking away the book Lucinda had insisted she borrow, Prue made her way into the large drawing-room below stairs. That was where they met with their fearless leader often, laughed, and came up with outrageous and fun dares and wagers.
She glanced at the dare she knew Charity was undertaking, feeling a curl of concern for her friend.A pot of one hundred pounds is to be had for the lady who dares to steal back a certain packet of love letters from that wicked libertine Viscount Sallis. Some of their dares were more reckless than others, and this one was even a bit harebrained. Still, Charity was determined to follow through, and Prue would support her.
Walking over to the wager board, Prue took up the chalk, but she did not write the dare. There was a measure of hesitancy, for everyone would know the intimate details of her marriage, but with a small smile, she pushed it away. She trusted every single member, all five and thirty, at 48 Berkeley Square. For everyone under this roof, it was about the genuineness of their friendship and love, the joy of being themselves without mockery or judgment. They were a sisterhood.
She scribbled,
Charity has dared Prudence to seduce the Earl of Wycliffe to her bed. Prue has accepted this dare.
What she did not write on the board was that she would do everything to seduce not only his body but his heart into giving her a passionate love, a husband who was a friend and a lover.
Even if the odds seemed so dismal.
Enticing Oscar’s heart might be a difficult task for she had never forgotten how dismissively he’d claimed a marriage connection had nothing to do with love. Given the distance between them, it was unlikely her husband’s viewpoint had changed.
Still…all or nothing. She would not simply accept that it was so; Prue would try and hope that he did not shatter her in the process.
Chapter Four
Prue had not dressed for seduction tonight when she’d come to dinner. If what she wanted out of this marriage was a friendship, not only a lover, then she had to stop contorting herself into what she thought the earl wanted her to be. To that end, she had donned her favorite dress of soft burgundy muslin with sprigged roses, too dark to be fashionable among theton. But it hugged her body like a caress and fortified her for the undertaking she had decided to make. One way or another, she was going to woo her husband.
As the footman cleared away the dishes from their evening repast, Prue leaned forward and caught Oscar by his sleeve. He always had an eye for fashion, and the deep green of his jacket tonight brought out his brown eyes and black hair. His muscles tensed beneath her touch. Though she wanted to slip her hand beneath the cuff of the jacket to touch his bare skin, to test whether his heartbeat was as fast as hers, she held herself still.
When he opened his mouth, she spoke first, to forestall the customarygoodnightthat ended each of their dinners together.
“Play with me.”
His lips parted as his jaw clenched, a contradiction in body language that she couldn’t reconcile. Despite the heat climbing into her cheeks, she held his unreadable gaze.
She cleared her throat and amended, “Chess, I mean.” Blast, but she was making a mess of this. Tightening her hand on his sleeve to keep him from leaving, she collected herself and tried again.
Be bold. Be confident.
“Would you like to adjourn to the library for a game of chess?”
