Mechanical Rose
Page 6
“This way,” she said over her shoulder.
Curves. Skin the color and shine of freshly baked loaves of bread. Just as hot. With a hand, he fisted his cock. “Here?” he asked, teasing. “This way?”
When he pressed his member against her cleft—so wet, so glossy and hot—his glans disappeared into her rosy flesh. He pulled out almost immediately. Violet let out a sigh of frustration.
“Again,” she urged with a push backward.
He twisted his hips to prolong the sweet torment. With his thumbs, he parted her wide so he could watch his cock press against the moist entry, sink by an inch or so before he pulled out again. Her back curved under the force of her buck.
“Do it!”
“You did not tell me how you wanted it,” he replied, feeling merciless.
“Take me, do it now! Now!”
“That is when, Violet, but how?”
Her mouthwatering lips released a vile curse that made him grin. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, take me now! Hard! Fuck me ha—argh!”
The word “fuck” had the effect of a whiplash on his backside. He thrust. Her long, ragged cry triggered cramps in his thighs. He had never taken a woman this brusquely before. His initial penetration unfurled her around him. He “ahh-ed”. Goodness. She was tight and hot and so wet. He pushed back in, pulled, shoved, pounded. Her rounded backside proved the perfect anchor as he held onto it with both hands, hips rolling, back and shoulders burning, bottom lip throbbing from biting it. The slap of skin against skin could be heard despite the wind. She curled up higher, spread her leg on the rung farther, let her boot slide sideways until he had to help keep her upright with his cock and hands. The heat of her channel—stretched so wide he could see his cock’s last inch going inside her—wrapped him, tightened around him. So slick.
She kept saying the same sentence under her breath. Leeford leaned over so he could hear.
“Fuck me,” she murmured. “Fuck me, fuck me.”
Out of vestigial dominant male instinct he had no idea was in him, he gave to Violet what she demanded. To hear her use such raw words fired his lower back and legs. He switched his grip, went for the handrail. Brutal thrusts rocked her forward. She let out cries and long whimpers. His name over again. Accelerant to the inferno spreading through him. His balls slapped her flesh under the violence of his claiming.
“Do it! Take it!”
“Mine to take,” he growled in reply. Thrust. Thrust. “Mine to take.”
“Yes!”
In a brilliant, blinding flash that seared the image of her, just as she was, in his mind, Leeford veritably exploded inside her. In burning jets, his semen shot out to add to the nectar already there. His teeth felt fused together.
They froze, coupled, joined. He, throbbing the last of his cum into her, she, squeezing like a fist around his cock.
“Violet,” he panted, kissed the back of her shoulder. “My sweet Violet.”
She grinned as she pulled from him and took the underthings from his back pocket. Even while she wiped herself of his seed, her rounded cheeks flushed and rosy, she managed to do it with grace and efficiency. He knew no one else who moved the way she did. But then again, she had scaled down the side of his house. In a dress.
“Allow me,” she said.
Leeford’s first instinct was to leap away when she gestured for him to stand still while she wiped his member. He felt his cheeks flush. “This is not necessary. I…I would have…” He cleared his throat, ignored her mocking grin as she dabbed his shaft, pecked the tip of her finger and placed the “kiss” on his glans.
“There, good as new.”
He murmured a mortified “Thank you” while he adjusted his trousers and shirt. He could no longer ignore her grin and joined her, relieved she would not make light of him but merely smile at the situation.
“Next time it will be my turn to wash you.” He held both sides of the corset together while she worked the tiny clasps. Such lovely curves. Large and heavy breasts, curvy hips, a strong waist perfect for anchoring a man’s hands.
She nodded. “And I intend to get very dirty when you do.”
“A challenge?”
“Yes.”
He enjoyed how forthright she was, how she behaved in a normal and simple way instead of the affected pretense so prized by his spheres. His family would despise her on the spot. Great Aunt Agnes would have an attack of the vapors. Mmm. Maybe Miss Violet and he ought to pay them a visit. Something told him his guest could take very good care of herself. In fact, it was the only detail that did not feel genuine about her—her occupation. He had been raised around ladies of high society, charity balls and other monstrously boring events, and she corresponded in nothing to it. Not physically—those hands spoke for themselves—and not mentally—she was too kind for starters, and too smart.
“Tell me, Violet,” he began while he helped arrange her dress. “Would you be interested in visiting the botanical gardens with me?”
She nodded. “Of course. In Aconia?”
Trepidation filled him. “We would not meet anyone interesting, mind you. But they have the most exquisite collection of orchids. Some all the way from Assanidia.”
Violet’s hands froze for a second then resumed working on the last button around her collar. “There would be someone interesting.” She looked at him and smiled.
“Who do you… Oh! Well, thank you.”
Could you become any more tongue-tied, you cretin?
After what they had just shared?!
“At what time?”
Leeford pulled his watch from his trousers even if the thing did not even give time but “kept” it—such an astute interpretation. But it did give him something to do with his hands. “Would four this afternoon be appropriate? It would give us time to sleep then ready. Do you need more time?” He pocketed the little gold item and fought the urge to find something else with which to occupy his hands.
Black eyes like pearls stared into his core. “Four is perfect. Will you call a coach?”
Thrill at her reaction mangled the words as he strove to keep them in line. “I have built a vehicle. Similar to a duo-cycler, but one a bit more, let us say—powerful—than the norm. I would be honored if you would ride with me.”
“Oh! I would be thrilled. Yes, of course.” She rubbed her hands and grinned. “I hope it is fast as well as powerful.”
“One literally flies in the thing.” He left the rest unsaid so as not to spoil her reaction when she would see it. “Shall we?”
She took his arm as he held the door for her, bolted it behind him then escorted her across the workshop.
“Tell me,” she said as she retrieved the tarp from the floor and let him take the other end. “Did someone ask you to build this or will you present it to a fair? Farmers will not sow their fields for another several months.”
He had often wondered about the identity of his secret benefactor, who must have heard of him and his design at the fair last spring. Someone rich obviously. Perhaps one who could not be openly linked to the Gunns. At least this project had been approved by the patents office. He was still waiting on another submission and suspected money should have accompanied the request.
“I have no idea, Violet. And that is the truth.”
Her eyes flared wide. “Have you no idea at all?”
“No, no idea at all. I received a letter, unsigned, offering to pay for my research and for the prototype. Then the ecus started being deposited in my account in Aconia. Five thousands every first of the month. I am to finish the project, inform them through my banker, who will deposit a note in my account, which will then be passed on to my sponsor’s customers. It is all very cloak-and-dagger but legal. I am willing to bet it is another powerful family who does not wish to openly trade with the Gunns.” The thought of thumbing his nose to his many cousins thrilled him. Although the biggest thrill would be to see his machine in the fields. Farming did not need to be the dangerous profession it was. Machines
could do the hazardous work, not people.
“Could you not continue your work without this sponsor? Financially, I mean?”
She flapped the tarp out and let it float down over the condensator. Her comment that it resembled a cannon returned to torment him. Useful things did not need to be ugly. He wanted to see beauty in utility and so had made it beautiful of form as well as a tool, but even he could see the potential for violence there.
“My family all but severed financial ties with me.” He cleared his throat, avoided her gaze when she stared at him. “I fear you will find this all very pathetic. But I am not a rich man, Violet. I can barely live off the rent I receive for the estate. I would have to give up my work. I could never do that, and Lady Frivolous depends on me. So does Max.” The responsibilities, the weight of them depressed him.
She cringed. “My presence only compounds your trouble then. Perhaps—”
“No! Please, do not even think about it. I enjoy your presence very much.” He took her hand and kissed the knuckles. “Do not feel as if you are a burden. I have not known you a long time, but I already enjoy our conversations. Believe me, it does not happen often that I feel comfortable with a person I have just met.”
Her face registered sadness for a reason he could not fathom.
What did you say again?
“Are you well? You look tense.”
She shrugged. “I did not mean to intrude in your affairs,” she replied, kissing his own hand in return. He wanted to kiss her again. “I am certain you are doing what feels right to you. It is all we can do, each of us.”
So wise of her. Lady in charge of charities? Ha!
Remorse needled her like a physical blade between the ribs. Leeford’s pained expression, his financial situation, his detestable family. But what hurt her the most was how he had confessed not knowing who sponsored his project. She could only guess at the state of mind of such a genius, having to work for hire this way, for a stranger who did not have the courtesy of providing a name. Like a whore. Spark had made a whore out of Leeford and she loathed the engineer even more for it. For once, the Society had failed in its intelligence gathering—they were not aware Gunn did not know his benefactor’s identity. She would remedy the situation this day. She would find an excuse to leave Leeford for a short while, find a messenger bureau and send a short brief of her mission so far. Mr. Clarence would perhaps change his view. Might even grant her the authorization to come clean with Leeford Gunn ahead of schedule and reveal the identity of his sponsor. She had high hopes he would renounce his research, or at least this project, and make sure Spark would not get anywhere near such a dangerous prototype.
Leeford’s hands and cock still felt on her, in her, as she accompanied him back to the house then up to her room. He stood by the door, his dazzling blue eyes lost in thought, his lips moving almost imperceptibly as though the gears in his brain turned too fast for the rest of him and created a need for physical release.
“At four,” she murmured so not to startle him.
After a quick grin, he nodded, pulled his lining out of his pocket when he dug his hand out. “I look forward to it,” he said after a quick shake of head. “Forgive me, I was somewhere else. Too many things up here.” He jabbed his index finger against his temple.
“More people should have that many things up there,” she replied with a genuine smile for the most interesting, loveable and guilt-inducing client she had had so far. She could see herself becoming attached to such a man. Danger lay in that chain of thought and she pushed it aside. “Good day, Leeford.”
He turned to leave, spun on the spot. “Oh, before I forget, you will need to wear appropriate clothes, like this dress to ride the duo-cycler. Lady Frivolous has a riding outfit, if you do not.”
So considerate. Guilt stabbed her deeper.
“I do, thank you.”
She admired him as he walked away. Stood there so she could bask in his unconventional beauty, his hair that stood on end in places, that tall and athletic body, those hands. She watched him and marveled that despite his treatment at the hands of the upper class in general and his family in particular, he had not become bitter and cynical. She knew of many who used less sufficient excuses for feeling self-righteous about their wicked ways. She had had to deal with a few for the Society. But not Leeford Gunn. She would do everything in her power to spare him and his household. She would find a way, even if she had to go after Spark alone. She would not let the Society near Gunn either, in case they sent another agent instead of her, although she doubted Mr. Clarence would do this. The Society prized itself on working with agents who could think for themselves. That her thoughts would focus on Leeford Gunn’s fit and firm body, she would leave out of her mission brief. This gift, this privilege, was hers alone.
* * * * *
“What in good fortune’s sake is this?” Eleanor cried out when the doors to the hangar parted and out came this…this thing.
Lady Frivolous, jumping up and down and batting her hands, laughed long and hard. At Eleanor or at nothing in particular? Eleanor could not tell.
Leeford and Max pushed it out and onto the gravel where its wheels crunched. It resembled a duo-cycler, with two wheels and handles and a seat made of leather, but the comparison ended there. Waxed cloth wings, for goodness’ sake! The thing had wings. Half folded along its sides, they resembled those of a bat.
Brass goggles, leather helmet and jacket, high boots and gloves, Leeford made for a mouth-watering sight. Eleanor forgot herself for a few seconds so she could imagine what a hurried coupling would feel like with him dressed this way. Delectable.
“It is a duo-cycler,” Leeford called, grinning like a loon. “With adjustments.”
“I would say,” she replied as she joined Lady Frivolous by the metal, leather and cloth monster. “It flies?”
Leeford thanked Max, who threw a slanted glance at Eleanor then left without a word. “No, it glides.”
She tied her wool cap tighter under her chin. Something told her she would need it. Dressed in black and gray from heels to cap, a dress equipped with the discreet frontal slit, her high boots, a long adjusted coat that buttoned all the way up her neck, she felt fitted for the trip, if not entirely ready for it. “For it to glide, would we not need to launch it from a height?”
His smile widened. “We have all the height we will need by the cliff.”
“The cliff?”
Lady Frivolous giggled behind her hands. She sat on the seat, lifted the hem of her dress enough so she could put her feet on the pedals then pretended to drive the thing with her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth. To general laughter.
“Leeford convinced me once to go to Aconia on this machine,” she remarked as she let Leeford lift her off then gently set her down on the ground. “I believe I screamed the entire journey.”
He cringed. “You did, Lady Frivolous.”
Eleanor remembered the ramp and nodded. She had no idea it had been built for launching a duo-cycler. Her heartbeat accelerated. Such exhilaration!
Leeford bent over the front of the machine, put his booted foot on the ledge then gave the crank a good twist. At once a roar like a dragon drowned the young woman’s squeal of delight. Smoke came out of its dual exhaust pipes. Leeford kicked his leg over the seat, extended a hand to Eleanor.
Grinning wide, she leaped behind him on the seat where she grabbed the safety bar in one hand and snaked the other around his waist. Heat from his backside warmed her between the legs. She felt herself melt there. He could trigger such need in her sex. And so quickly!
Punctuated by Lady Frivolous’ applause and whoops of delight, Leeford twisted the handle, which propelled the machine a few feet forward along the gravel path leading to the back of the house. And to the cliff. Lady Frivolous ran alongside, sometimes skipping happily. When the lighthouse came into view, cliff on either side, Leeford aimed for the ramp, picking up speed, leaning over the handles. Eleanor held on tighter.
After taking their machine from above the roiling ocean to glide over land, Leeford turned back toward her, grinned wide. His goggles hid his eyes but she could tell they must have been sparkling. For no logical reason except that it felt good, she hugged him tight and leaned her head on the back of his shoulder. The leather of his jacket smelled of oil and smoke but she did not care.
Below them were rolling hills lush green in the afternoon light, the occasional house here and there, roads and stone fences like gray and white snakes. Wind howled at them, filled their wings, which groaned and creaked. In the distance, she spotted the megalopolis, its skyline bristling with metal spires and brick towers, glass cupolas, statues and bridges. A brownish haze hung over it like bad humors. She had been born in a city herself, but would not choose to retire in one. In fact, she much preferred living by the sea, such as Leeford’s estate. She could see herself living there forever. She would not miss the city nor its inhabitants. No one would miss her either. Her parents were both long dead and the rest of the family had no idea what she did, only that she was never without financial means. She kept them far from her affairs. The Society cared little about its agents’ families as long as they did not know. She was a perfect case. No family to speak of, no collateral liabilities, no chance at blackmail.
Soon, they glided over the suburbs, built directly on the ground, followed by the city proper, erected on piles like most megalopolises, Leeford taking advantage of the many hot currents and upward drafts. They met large flying machines where she could see faces turned toward them in the windows, fingers pointing, children smiling wide.