Several minutes passed and Tom looked over at her again. “So … do you like it?”
He pointed to the book.
Sybil shrugged. “It’s not bad actually. It’s about these two childhood sweethearts on a farm in Ireland in the 1890s. The guy asks the girl to marry him when he’s twenty and she’s eighteen, but she’s ambitious and says no and goes to England where she marries this old, wealthy banker for his money. When he leaves his country house and estate, and all these men come after her for her inherited fortune, but she seduces them all until they fall in love with her, at which point she breaks each of their hearts. Meanwhile, ten years later, her old sweetheart has lost everything and gets into a scrape and kills a British officer in self-defense. He has to flee so he assumes a new identity and decides to go find her after all this time. He arrives at her estate and has taken a job there thinking that she doesn’t know she’s hired him, but she does know. That’s where I am.”
"That’s quite a bit of plot for that kind of book."
"It’s a page-turner, no doubt. I rather like that, though. It’s a bit like Tom Hardy, except not as depressing since the woman has lots of good sex."
"So it’s historically accurate, then," he said cheekily.
Sybil smirked. “I don’t think shagging in any era compares to how good this woman has it.”
Before Sybil could react, Tom grabbed the book out of her hands.
"Hey!" She exclaimed, sitting up and reaching over him.
Using his left hand to hold her off, Tom opened the book with his right and began to read aloud.
He was harder than he could have imagined, and she had yet to touch herself. His thoughts were jolted as she closed her eyes and moaned. She began to push the fabric of her neckline down until one of her round, full breasts was free to be devoured first by his eyes, then his mouth.
"That doesn’t sound like any Hardy that I read," Tom said laughing. "Maybe if it had, I’d done better in school."
Tom having stopped holding her off, Sybil was finally able to reach across him and take the book back.
"It’s just fantasy. Men aren’t usually willing to give a women this much pleasure. That’s the reason women write these books."
"How do you know T.B. Nightingale is a woman?"
"No man who understands foreplay or oral sex like it’s written here."
"If you say so, but maybe you just haven’t met the right one yet."
Sybil rolled her eyes. “No doubt, you consider yourself an expert.”
"Wouldn’t you like to find out," he said with a smirk.