A Courtesan’s Guide to Getting Your Man by Susan Donovan, Celeste Bradley Page A

thinking about. I wanted to speak but my tongue wouldn’t obey. My throat was so dry that swallowing was out of the question. I was terrified.
    And aroused. I could feel the throbbing of my nethers even past the pounding of my pulse. If I wanted to, I could turn and flee at this moment, before we had so much as greeted each other.
    I stayed.
    It was more than the need to learn to be the most brilliant courtesan who had ever lived—I was ever enterprising—for I already had a contract negotiated with Robert through the Swan. I did not need to prove my abilities to anyone.
    “You are very quiet.” The man came closer to me.
    I managed to choke out something idiotic. “Yes, sir.”
    He stopped before me, so close that I had to tilt my chin up to see his face.
    Heaven help me, the mask excited me more. I had wanted something anonymous, something wicked and deliciously sinful. I very much feared I had found it.
    “Well, my silent lady, I must tell you that I don’t approve. I wish you to speak.”
    To say what? My mind scrambled. “Yes, sir.” Goodness, watch me wax brilliant.
    He brought one hand up to take my chin between his finger and thumb. I jerked slightly when he touched me, for the warmth of his skin was like fire on mine. He gazed down at me for a long moment.
    “Say ‘cock.’”
    If he had asked me a fortnight ago, I would have answered without the slightest embarrassment, for to me it simply meant “cockerel” or “rooster.” No longer. The Swan had told me that men used it to describe their male parts.
    His touch roughened ever so slightly, giving my head a tiny admonishing shake. “We will not make it through the first Sin tonight if you cannot say such a simple word.”
    I swallowed dry. “C-cock.”
    “Try it again.”
    I firmed my shivering belly. “Cock.” I was pleased that it came out so confidently.
    “Cunte.”
    I only blinked at him in confusion. I had never heard the word. He smiled. His lips were perfect. I couldn’t take my eyes off them.
    “I have a cock. You have a cunte. Say ‘cunte.’”
    Oh. It was a word for my nethers. A very naughty word, I knew without being told. The twist of his lips gave that away. He wanted to hear me say dirty words.
    At last a flare of my customary audacity warmed my shaking innards. I met his gaze, licked my lips and used the Swan’s trick of dropping my tone. “Cunte,” I said. I practically moaned it.
    Now he was the one gazing at my mouth. I was very pleased until he upped the ante.
    “Say ‘fuck.’”
    Oh heavens. Now he was being truly obscene. I took a breath, determined. “F—” I took another breath. “Fu—”
    He grunted a short laugh. “Before the night is over, you will say ‘Fuck my cunte with your cock.’ You will say it over and over again. In fact, you will scream it out loud.”
    Oh damn. My knees buckled a little, I confess, but I firmed them with nothing but the power of my will and met his gaze. “Then perhaps you had best stop wasting the night, sir, because that might take a while.”
    His answer was to slide his hand around the back of my neck and tug at the bow tied there. I gasped as the chiffon nightdress slithered off me like a fall of water. I was entirely naked, gleaming and pale before his clothed darkness. I quickly pulled my hair forward to let it flow over my breasts and then clasped my hands before my nethers. My cunte.
    He did not move or speak for a long moment, but only gazed at me through the eyes of the mask. Inscrutable.
    I hate inscrutable.
    However, my total vulnerability left me too unsure and unnerved to be saucy any longer. I was full of horse apples. I was not brave, or daring, or any of the things I’d imagined when I’d concocted this outrageous plan. I was a girl, an almost virgin, too terrified to do anything but stand there while he violated me with his eyes.
    The moment stretched on and on. The suspense became too much for me. I am not a patient person. I shifted restlessly from