Read Online Heartstrings by Rebecca Paisley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rebecca Paisley
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stones massaged the bottoms of her feet, and cool water bubbled around her ankles. Bending, she cupped a handful of water and smoothed it onto her neck and throat. “The very least you can do is satisfy my curiosity and tell me what I have done to deserve your wrath.”
Vaguely, he heard her talking to him. His concentration, however, was centered elsewhere. She’d hiked her lemon-yellow skirts and lacy petticoat up to her thighs. He had a tantalizing view of her lush cleavage, too.
He watched mesmerized as she splashed water onto her face and licked off a few droplets from her bottom lip. She moved her tongue slowly, as if savoring the taste.
It took more willpower than Roman realized he had to turn around and attend to the horses.
Resigning herself to the fact that Roman was not going to discuss his sullenness, Theodosia emerged from the creek, retrieved a small, leather-bound book from her belongings, and settled down on a brilliant mass of orange-red butterfly weed beneath a slender willow. Within minutes, she was so engrossed in her reading that she failed to realize she was commenting on the text aloud.
“Man must take measures to prevent woman from having to bear his weight,” she paraphrased as she scanned the page. “Must also summon patience to prepare woman for entry. Pain will be lessened for her if man begins with long session of foreplay.”
Roman turned his head toward her so quickly, a sharp pain ripped through his neck. What in God’s name was she talking about?
“Man positions himself between woman’s thighs and begins with gentle probing,” she continued. “Woman may choose to wrap her legs around man’s waist. Allows for deeper penetration.”
Roman’s mouth dropped open to a wide O.
Theodosia turned the page. “Hips may move in a circular or back and forth motion. Maximum contact made with woman’s body. If contact broken, woman deprived of stimulation required to induce orgasmic pleasure. Said pleasure heightened by… Well, I never even imagined!”
“Imagined what?” Roman yelled, irritated that she’d stopped talking just short of the part about pleasure.
“Why are you shouting at me?” She closed the book and stood, her yellow skirts swishing across the orange flowers. “I was merely sitting here reading, and you have no cause whatsoever to bellow—”
“What the hell kind of book are you reading?”
“A sexual treatise entitled The Sweet Art of Passion .”
He stared at her. Hard, and without blinking. “Sex treats?”
“A sexual treatise. A written exposition concerning the sexual activities of human beings. It was created centuries ago by a Tibetan scholar who, at the time, was considered a leading authority on the subject. Nine years ago, it was unearthed and translated into English. It has not been revealed to the general public but has been relatively contained within the academic world.”
Roman moved his unblinking stare from her face to the cover of her book. There had been many times in his life when he wished he had the ability to see through solid objects, but never more so than now.
“I have no experience with such matters,” Theodosia explained nonchalantly, watching the horses amble away from the creek and begin grazing. “Therefore, I thought it judicious to educate myself.”
Roman began to feel warm, and not from the heat of the day. He glanced at the creamy flesh between her breasts, wishing she’d unfastened just one more button.
“Passion is said to be an art, Mr. Montana. From what I’ve read in this book, some men master it and others do not. The instructions in this treatise encompass everything from the first kiss to the gentlest way to deflower a virgin to several highly unusual forms of attaining sexual gratification.”
Roman wondered if dead Tibetan men knew something live American men didn’t. “Uh, about these highly unusual forms… What—”
“Of course, I will proceed with my plans in an objective manner,” she
Vaguely, he heard her talking to him. His concentration, however, was centered elsewhere. She’d hiked her lemon-yellow skirts and lacy petticoat up to her thighs. He had a tantalizing view of her lush cleavage, too.
He watched mesmerized as she splashed water onto her face and licked off a few droplets from her bottom lip. She moved her tongue slowly, as if savoring the taste.
It took more willpower than Roman realized he had to turn around and attend to the horses.
Resigning herself to the fact that Roman was not going to discuss his sullenness, Theodosia emerged from the creek, retrieved a small, leather-bound book from her belongings, and settled down on a brilliant mass of orange-red butterfly weed beneath a slender willow. Within minutes, she was so engrossed in her reading that she failed to realize she was commenting on the text aloud.
“Man must take measures to prevent woman from having to bear his weight,” she paraphrased as she scanned the page. “Must also summon patience to prepare woman for entry. Pain will be lessened for her if man begins with long session of foreplay.”
Roman turned his head toward her so quickly, a sharp pain ripped through his neck. What in God’s name was she talking about?
“Man positions himself between woman’s thighs and begins with gentle probing,” she continued. “Woman may choose to wrap her legs around man’s waist. Allows for deeper penetration.”
Roman’s mouth dropped open to a wide O.
Theodosia turned the page. “Hips may move in a circular or back and forth motion. Maximum contact made with woman’s body. If contact broken, woman deprived of stimulation required to induce orgasmic pleasure. Said pleasure heightened by… Well, I never even imagined!”
“Imagined what?” Roman yelled, irritated that she’d stopped talking just short of the part about pleasure.
“Why are you shouting at me?” She closed the book and stood, her yellow skirts swishing across the orange flowers. “I was merely sitting here reading, and you have no cause whatsoever to bellow—”
“What the hell kind of book are you reading?”
“A sexual treatise entitled The Sweet Art of Passion .”
He stared at her. Hard, and without blinking. “Sex treats?”
“A sexual treatise. A written exposition concerning the sexual activities of human beings. It was created centuries ago by a Tibetan scholar who, at the time, was considered a leading authority on the subject. Nine years ago, it was unearthed and translated into English. It has not been revealed to the general public but has been relatively contained within the academic world.”
Roman moved his unblinking stare from her face to the cover of her book. There had been many times in his life when he wished he had the ability to see through solid objects, but never more so than now.
“I have no experience with such matters,” Theodosia explained nonchalantly, watching the horses amble away from the creek and begin grazing. “Therefore, I thought it judicious to educate myself.”
Roman began to feel warm, and not from the heat of the day. He glanced at the creamy flesh between her breasts, wishing she’d unfastened just one more button.
“Passion is said to be an art, Mr. Montana. From what I’ve read in this book, some men master it and others do not. The instructions in this treatise encompass everything from the first kiss to the gentlest way to deflower a virgin to several highly unusual forms of attaining sexual gratification.”
Roman wondered if dead Tibetan men knew something live American men didn’t. “Uh, about these highly unusual forms… What—”
“Of course, I will proceed with my plans in an objective manner,” she
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