Diamonds in the Rough. Portia Da Costa
angle.
“Yes, I’m afraid that can happen in the presence of beautiful women.”
He’d done that trick again. Read the thoughts and notions going through her mind.
“Can you not control it?” Adela’s pencil snapped. She was pressing on it too hard. Reaching into the portfolio and a little leather notch, she drew out a tiny knife and sharpened the point. The small activity was a respite. She had to concentrate in order not to cut her finger. While focusing on the blade she couldn’t look at Wilson’s burgeoning sex.
“Oh, I could if wanted to,” he replied airily. “I could apply myself to the never-ending conundrum that is pi, or tax my brain with one or two little theorems that are interesting me at the moment, and that would probably result in a gradual collapse of the offending organ....” The sharpening was finished, and Adela looked up again, to find him grinning at her. “But I don’t want to. It’s rather pleasant to be aroused.... I like being reminded that I’m male, and animal, and that I’m lusty.” Slowly, he ran a fingertip along his own length. “And I love the way it brings the roses to your cheeks.”
Adela drew in a breath, to calm herself. The sight of him fondling his own flesh did hot and peculiar things to her. She wanted him to do far more than simply touch. She wanted to know what happened if he just kept stroking and stroking. Having inveigled her way into her grandfather’s library—with Wilson’s help—and perused certain volumes, and listened to racy talk from certain wild girls at the ladies’ academy she’d attended...well, she was fully aware of what happened to men, and what they did with the result during the act of carnal congress.
But all that was purely theoretical. Actually observing the male phenomenon occur in front of her was making her quite giddy.
“Well, you might as well plunge back into the river to cool off, both yourself and your masculine appendage,” she said as briskly as she could, hoping to sound clinical and detached. “I’ve seen quite enough for now. I can draw whatever I need to from memory henceforward.”
“I rather like the idea of my erection being preserved forever in your mind’s eye. Every time I look at you from now on, I’ll be wondering if you’re thinking about my cock.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m drawing you as a life study, not thinking about your...your...”
“It’s called my cock, Della, and in the interest of art, and of science, I think you should touch it to ascertain its texture. It’ll assist you in your sketching.”
Would she even be able to sketch anything now? He’d got her all in a fluster. She’d come here with daring activities in mind, but faced with the moment of truth, she found her natural fears had resurfaced. Not sure what to do, she stole another glance at Wilson, trying not to let her eyes roam in a southerly direction.
Her cousin had that sympathetic expression on his face again. So unlike his usual blunt and arrogant imperiousness, the armor of his exceptional mind. He gave her a little smile that could be construed as an apology. As if he felt remorse for unsettling her.
“Yes, I think a dip is a good idea.” He rose, and Adela looked quickly away again. The way his cock bounced and swung made her face burn. “And for you, too, Della. If you like, I won’t look until you’re safely up to your chin in the water.”
“I’m not sure.” The water did look inviting, though, and it was such a warm day. Even in less underwear than usual, she felt oppressed, and envious of Wilson’s total lack of modesty and the way it allowed him to do whatever he wanted.
“You’ll enjoy it. Come on in.” Wilson was already wading back into the stream, and Adela felt a sense of loss as he moved away from her. Devil that he might be, she wanted to be close.
“Perhaps I can keep my chemise and drawers on.”
Wilson turned again, although fortunately, the organ that bothered her so much was now hidden beneath the surface. “Don’t be silly. You don’t want to go back to the house with soggy underpinnings, do you?”
Damn the man, he was back to goading again.
“Oh, very well, then!” Setting aside her portfolio, Adela swiftly unfastened the buttons of her boots, kicked them off and then sprang to her feet. Her heart pounding, she attacked the buttons down the front of her garments next, trying not to be hampered by the shaking of her fingers. With a nod, Wilson turned away as she shed the bodice of her dress.
“You can watch if you want. I don’t care!”
Why in heaven’s name did I say that?
“Very tempting, but I think you deserve some privacy, cousin. I’ve teased you far too much already.” With that, he waded out farther, his fine back disappearing beneath the water until only his head was showing. His shaggy black hair kissed the surface of the stream.
Infuriating beast!
Adela grappled with her clothing, muttering to herself. Wilson really was the most contrary creature she’d ever met, or could imagine meeting. He was so fickle, changing tack again and again, that she just didn’t know where she stood with him.
Buttons and ribbons and garters defied her. She tugged and wrenched. Wilson didn’t think that she dare unclothe herself before him, but she would show him. She would show him, indeed, show him everything. But she had to do it before her nerve failed her.
Though the day was warm, she shivered as she unveiled her skin. It was the strangest sensation to be naked in the open air. She’d only ever undressed to bathe before, in the privacy of her bedroom or the bathroom. Even when she’d swum in the sea, she’d disrobed in the safely of the bathing machine, and come out in a voluminous costume. Now, a light breeze flowed over her bare skin, like zephyr’s caress. Her nipples had already firmed, but the sense of exposure made them tingle in a way that was half pain, half pleasure.
Out in the water, she saw Wilson turn his head. Was he looking at her even though he’d said he wouldn’t? She wouldn’t be at all surprised.... But she resisted the urge to try and cover herself with arms and hands. Let him see! Let him know she wasn’t afraid of him! Padding across the turf, she made for the water’s edge, her body still in conflict, incompatible compulsions at war. But still she managed to keep her arms at her side.
“Good grief!”
The flowing river was cold, despite the warm sunny day. The chill hit her like a blow, but she waded forward, clamping her jaws together to stop her teeth chattering.
“I did warn you it was cold,” said Wilson, cutting through the water toward her as she sank to shoulder level, almost in a state of shock.
“I thought you were just claiming that to excuse the small size of your organ,” she retorted, her voice half choked by the frigidity of the water.
“Touché,” replied Wilson, up close now. Very close indeed. Adela glanced down and realized that the water was unexpectedly clear, like crystal, and she could see every detail of his body.
As he must be able to see every detail of hers. The devil, he’d known this all along. He was almost flaunting himself, swaying in the water, making his penis move slowly. It seemed to have acclimatized itself to the temperature and was quite sizable.
“Shall we swim a little...get out of our depth?”
I’m already way out of my depth.
Wilson reached out beneath the water and took her hand, leading her into the deepest part of the stream.
The flow was erratic, faster here, and for a moment she was afraid of something other than her randy cousin. When she’d indulged in sea bathing, it had been in a sheltered cove, noted for its lack of currents and breakers. This stretch of the river was actually far more active.
As if sensing her fears, Wilson tightened his hold on her hand, and immediately she felt safe again. Well, safe from drowning. Of other hazards, she wasn’t so sure.
They