Portia Da Costa
Page 34
“Indeed,” said Wilson, moving his body insistently against hers, now that it seemed the various points of possible debate had been dealt with. “Although if you should wish to continue your more...risqué studies in private, you may always draw me, for your own pleasure.” He jerked his hips, indicating the item in question.
Reaching down, she fondled the magnificent totem. It was indeed a subject of which she would never tire.
“Well, then, we seem to have dealt with everything. Shall we proceed?” She slid her thumb beneath the head of his cock and circled it.
Wilson groaned like a dying man, and his eyelids fluttered. “Oh, dear Lord, Mrs. Ruffington, yes...let’s proceed. Let’s proceed or I shall anoint your beautiful hand.”
He moved over her. She parted her thighs. With a touch of his hand, he positioned himself.
“My dear, I love you,” he gasped, pushing in, pushing home.
“And I you,” she answered, tilting her hips, pushing back, taking him in.
30
Diamonds in the Rough
“Wilson, please keep still. It’s difficult to draw you when you keep twitching like that.”
“I’ll try,” Wilson muttered between clenched teeth. “But it’s very difficult to keep still. I don’t always have total control over that portion of my anatomy.”
“Very true,” observed Adela, tapping her teeth with the tip of her pencil and considering her latest artistic endeavor.
Which was a sketch of Wilson’s erect penis with the Ruffington diamonds draped around its base and partially nestled in the dark hair at his groin. They’d made love on returning from a soiree, fired up with giddy excitement and jubilation, and Wilson had insisted on rogering her while she wore the beautiful gems. Afterward, Adela had suggested it was only fair that he should don the diamonds for a change...and when she’d arranged them, an inevitable reaction had occurred.
“How much longer, dearest?” Wilson shuffled against the mattress, making the brilliants slide and glitter. “It’s not that I’m exactly bored, but it seems a shame not to put this phenomenon to good use.”
Yes, it was a shame, and Adela’s own anatomy was already roused and ready for a second round of pleasure. But she was determined to finish the study.
“I might ask you the same—how much longer?” she replied, licking her lips and wondering how much stiffer and more rampant her husband could get. Her fingers slipped, distracted by him, and she had to reach for her India rubber eraser to make a correction. “Only a minute or two, Wilson. I don’t want to make a mess of it. It’ll be perfect for Divertissements.”
“Oh, so you’re going to put my cock on display for the delectation of all the randy gentlewomen of London, are you?” His protest didn’t fool her. She could tell he was actually inordinately amused by the idea. He didn’t mind a bit being drawn for the magazine these days, as long as she never showed his face, and like any man, he enjoyed showing off his virility.
“We have subscribers in the country, too. And some on the Continent. Your magnificent appendage could become a worldwide favorite.” Finally satisfied with her efforts, she signed “Isis” in the corner with a flourish, then held up the sketch pad so Wilson could see it.
“Not bad...not bad at all.” He moved closer, head cocked to one side to study her work. The necklace slid onto the sheet at his hip, and as Wilson took the pad, Adela reached for it and fastened it around her own neck again. She always felt well dressed and glamorous when wearing the Ruff diamonds...even when she was stark naked, as she was now.
“You really are remarkably talented, Della. It’s not easy to reproduce the iridescence of a diamond in this medium, but you’ve done a pretty fair job, I must admit.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Adela grinned, amused that Wilson could be so objective about her drawing technique, when faced with an image of his own erect penis.
“Although I should imagine it’s not the necklace that your women friends will be appraising, but the form and angle of your husband’s erection.”
“Don’t fret, dear,” said Adela, beginning to investigate said form and angle, as it was now so conveniently placed. “Only Sofia, Beatrice and trusted members of the Ladies’ Sewing Circle know that I’m ‘Isis.’ To anyone else reading the journal, it’s just a cock, albeit a very nice one.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Wilson’s normally low voice had become thrillingly husky, and he was moving his hips a little, pushing into her grip. “I think we’ve had enough brushes with scandal recently, without it being touted high and low that there are pictures of my masculine equipment available in a woman’s journal of dubious provenance.”
It was two weeks now since the events of Sybil’s engagement ball, and this morning, Adela had visited the last of Blair Devine’s potential blackmail victims. Another woman had sobbed with relief on having all her lost letters put into her hand again. Another woman had promised eternal gratitude, when her offer of recompense was dismissed. This evening’s glittering musical soiree had been one of many invitations extended to the Wilson Ruffingtons by way of saying thank-you.
The retrieval of the other documents, and their safe return to various offices and personages, had set other wheels in motion. Because the secrets and precious information had come back to rights by such an unconventional manner, it was difficult to punish Devine for his misdemeanors. But pressure had been brought to bear, heavy hints dropped, emanating from the highest of high places, and the solicitor had been advised in no uncertain terms that it might be in his best interests to emigrate. Somewhere. Anywhere. And by all accounts, he was already on his way, traveling with a rich widow who one hoped had the measure of him. Adela’s mother had expressed disappointment at the departure, but Wilson had counseled waiting some months before it was prudent to reveal the truth to her. He’d also introduced his mother-in-law to a distinguished friend of his at a soirée; a retired judge, a widower somewhat older than Mama, but a gentleman of vigorous bearing, with a merry twinkle in his eye. Mrs. Ruffington’s eyes had twinkled in return.
“It’s not dubious. Divertissements is artistic and informative,” Adela observed now, plying him with her fingertips. “Although I can reliably predict that the circle ladies who do know whose cock is portrayed will be quite envious of me.”
Gnawing at his lower lip, Wilson gasped. “Of course they’re envious, woman! You’re married to an eminent genius with pots of money, and sooner or later, you’re going to be Lady Millingford.”
Indeed, she had every good thing to be thankful for. A husband who loved her, and a perfect lover. Total honesty reigned between them now, encompassing all, and the path that had brought them to it was brilliantly illuminated, with no blame, no recriminations, no doubts. More comfortable with Wilson than she’d ever been in her life, Adela edged over to his side, then flung a thigh across his narrow pelvis. Rearing up, she took hold of him by his tip, positioned herself carefully...then released him and sank down and down and down.
“Heaven save me,” breathed Wilson, and for a moment, Adela couldn’t even say anything. The delicious impact of this feeling was always new.
“No, it’s the cock they’ll be envious of,” she panted, after dragging in a few deep breaths. “Definitely the cock.”
“If you say so.” Wilson grasped her by the hips, holding her down while he thrust upward. “If you say so...” He seemed to be fighting for breath, too. “I wonder if these women have any idea what a daring and adventurous creature you are, too? Committing acts of burglary with this massively blessed husband yours?”
“I’ve no idea...but they must think it’s an adventure just to live with you. Because of the...blessing...” Summoning her composure, she gripped him fiercely with her inner muscles, smothering her grin when his beautiful silver-blue eyes nearly crossed. “And your dazzling scholarship and your notorious eccentricities.”
Wilson came up on one elbow and slung his free arm around her, pulling her down to him. “I’m the o
ne who’s dazzled, Della,” he whispered, pressing small kisses at the corner of her mouth, then nipping her lower lip.
Slipping her hands behind her neck, fiddling with the necklace’s catch, Adela imagined that she and Wilson were diamonds, too. Rough diamonds, not without flaws, but each perfectly matched to the other. “Shall I take them off? They are rather bright,” she said, but he caught her wrists and conveyed first one hand, then the other to his lips.
“I’d still be dazzled, my love. You know that, don’t you?” Subsiding back against the pillows, Wilson drew her hands down to his chest, then rocked his hips up again, encouraging and provoking, his face bright and handsome with love. “And I always will be.”
“Me, too,” whispered Adela, dazzled in return.
* * * * *
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ISBN: 9781460313244
Copyright © 2013 by Portia Da Costa
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