Page 35 of His Revelation
“Here it is!” the woman called, a little breathless as she hauled a wooden box back toward the counter. “I have some terrible news for you, though, Miss.”
As Lunzie jumped to take the box from her and place it on the counter, Tiffany gripped the strings of her reticule tightly and tried to calm the churning of her stomach. “Terrible news?” She managed to keep her voice from shaking. “They have been sold? Do you remember the purchaser’s name?”
Mr. Ferguson’s daughter was still clicking her tongue as she pulled things from the box. “Some of it has been sold. Most of it. If Papa sold it, we might have records, but Jimmy is shite at—ooh, I mean, his talents tend toward other directions.” She sounded as if she were parroting a phrase she’d been forced to memorize. “Most of the Oliphant manuscripts have been purchased…”
Damn.
Tiffany inhaled a shaky breath, straightening her shoulders, prepared to face defeat?—
“Except this.” The woman pulled out an old, dusty manuscript. “I remember this one, because it’s –well, it’s quite memorable, if you know what I mean.” She winked. “If you’re interested in Oliphant history, Miss, this is a good one.”
“Yes,” Tiffany breathed, springing toward the counter, at Lunzie’s side. “I am. I mean, we are. That is why we are here, to find Oliphant manuscripts.” So Bonnie can sell them to Lady Athena. “May I see it?”
The folio the woman laid in front of them was loosely bound, just pieces of vellum stacked on top of each other, no spine or cover to speak of. The first page was titledA Harlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts, by an Oliphant Lady. A manuscript by a medieval Oliphant woman!
At her side, Lunzie sucked in a breath, but when Tiffany glanced at him, he nodded downward. “Ye should be the one to open it,sister. Since ye’re wearing gloves and that looks ancient.”
So, with hands which only shook alittle, Tiffany began to flip through the pages…and by the third one, was blushing brighter than a juicy red apple.
Oh dear.
It seemed that whatan Oliphant Ladyhad compiled was in fact some kind of sexual manual.
A Harlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Artscontained page after page of wicked illustrations, with descriptions beside them. The words were written in a beautiful and delicate hand, but the illustrations…
Swallowing, Tiffany continued to turn the pages in almost a daze.
The illustrations showed men and women engaged in various sexual acts and positions—was that a rolling pin? Tiffany hesitated over one page, then flipped it as quickly and carefully as possible. Sometimes there were more than one man!
Good heavens.
Along with her cheeks heating, she felt a warmth building between her legs, and unconsciously squeezed her thighs together to capture that delicious sensation. She wasn’t naïve; she knew what that sensation meant, knew what she needed.
Oh, look, here was a description, under the heading “Churning Butter.”
Seeking self-pleasure, the woman curls her middle two fingers into her channel, seeking the position of ecstasy.
The illustration was helpful. Tiffany twisted her head to one side to study it, then realized what she was doing, and hurried to turn the page.
In most cases, a man’s cock will release a few drops of his essence prior to his orgasm, in order to help lubricate the entrance of his member into her cunny. Of course, if done properly, she will already be wet from his ministrations (see pages six through twelve).
Oh.
Ohmy.
Her breathing was coming too quickly, she was certain. Tiffany flipped again, moving too fast to be able to focus on any one word, any one illustration.
But then Lunzie’s hand closed around her wrist, halting her movements.
The woman’s lover settles between her legs, his tongue replacing his fingers. With gentle strokes, he caresses her lower lips, sliding between and through, lapping up her essence. Each woman will learn what she prefers, but a talented man will be able to stimulate her pearl with the tip of his tongue as he strokes her with his fingers.
“We’ll take it.”
Lunzie’s voice was raspy, as if he were caught in the throes of some powerful emotion. Tiffany wanted to glance at him, to see what expression he wore in response to this manuscript…but her wide eyes were riveted on the illustration on the page. The woman—still dressed, except for her breasts hanging from her open bodice, reclined with her skirts held up to her waist, while a man knelt between them, his hands on her thighs, holding them open.
Tiffany thought her knees might give out.
This wasunbelievablywicked, and she desperately wanted to snatch up the manuscript and take it back to her room, where she could study it at length. Perhaps with someChurning Butter.
