Page 42 of A Contracted Spouse for the Prizefighter

“Never tell me you bought a dirty book, Dora,” Clem teased.

She went even redder. “Not me. Felix.”

“He surely never shared such a thing with his sisters,” Clem objected.

“No, and that was just the thing that made me curious. You see, we found this obscure little bookstore one Saturday, piled from floor to ceiling with books, and it had the most intriguing set of rickety stairs, but would you believe it,” she said with chagrin, “only gentlemen were allowed up them. Well, Felix ventured up and Hetty and I had to make do with the selection downstairs. Presently, he returned with this little pile of books, all done up with brown paper and string and that struck me as odd you see, for neither my own purchases nor Hetty’s were parcelled up, so that piqued my curiosity.”

She lapsed into silence and Clem reached across and took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. “Then what happened?” he prompted. He was enjoying this story.

“Well, we had afternoon tea, and my sister and I regaled our uncle with what we had bought but Felix was as quiet as mouse, most unlike him. Then after lunch, Hetty and I went into the parlor to read. Usually, Felix would join us, but that day he went up to his room. Then at dinner again, he spoke not a word about his books while Hetty and I spoke of ours at length. After a few days, we added ours to the communal bookshelves in the back sitting room, but none of Felix’s ever appeared.”

Clem, who had his suspicions about the content of Felix’s books smirked. “So how did you stumble on them?” he persisted.

Dora cleared her throat. “I waited until he was out at the theatre one day and went into his room,” she confessed. “I did not even have a notion what the books were, just that they were some forbidden knowledge, that was enough to spur me on.”

“What were they?” he pressed, even as he harbored a few suspicions of his own.

“They were illustrations of a risqué nature,” she admitted. “Depictions of women alone and in a state of undress and they were … pleasuring themselves.”

Clem breathed out. Well, he had expected women in a state of undress but not that! “How?” he asked, his tone already a little unsteady.

“With um … their fingers but also …”

“Also, what?”

She reddened. “Other things.” She lowered her voice. “Phallus-shaped things.”

“Phallus?”

“Cock shaped things.”

Clem’s gaze darted to her mouth. “Say that again?”

“Well, you see they were using them …”

“No, the word you just used,” he corrected her.

“Cock? Well, that’s the word you have been using, so I—”

“Yes, that’s the word.” He steadied his breathing a moment. “You must have been very shocked,” he continued lightly.

“I was,” she agreed vehemently. “I set the book right down and walked out of the room, vowing I would never, ever, be curious again about gentlemen’s secrets.” Clem laughed. “But afterwards, I thought about it a lot and … even on occasion snuck another look.” She peeped up at him through her lashes. “Are you shocked?”

“Very,” he agreed warmly. “Shocked and delighted.”

“After seeing those pictures, I was curious,” she admitted. “Curious about my own body.”

“You touched yourself?” She nodded. “Will you show me, Dora?”

“I want to,” she admitted, once more depriving him of air. “But it won’t be as exciting for you. Not like it was for me to watch you, I mean, because—well—you can’t really see all that much.”

“I can see your fingers working your—between your legs, I mean,” he said hoarsely. “You don’t need to worry about me finding it exciting, Dora. I’m already excited.” Her gaze dropped down to where his cock was already stirring with interest behind his trouser seam and her mouth formed a soundless oh. Clem smirked.

“Well, that didn’t take very long at all,” she marveled.

“That’s your fault.”

She gave a huff of laughter. “Well, tell me when you’re ready, then.”