Virginnia De Parte writes futuristic fiction, spiced with romance and adventure. She has three romances published as e-books and the fourth in the series about the genetically-altered Corban family is called ‘A Stellar Affair’ and is due for release in August/September. These are published by Secret Cravings Publishing.
Her other love is writing poetry and she is published in this genre as well, both on line and in hard copy. She has an erotic piece called ‘Memoirs of Lady Montrose’ just released with Total-e-Bound.
A love words, and changing the way they are arranged, drives her writing. She endeavours to insert poetic prose into her fiction. Setting her stories in the future allows her imagination to run riot and she waits for the world to catch up with her inventions, instead of having her work dated by the constant, present-day advances made in technology.
Virginnia belongs to writing groups and on-line critique lists, all of whom help to keep her on-track and well edited.
She lives in the aptly named Bay of Plenty, New Zealand, a land of beautiful scenery, four million people and a number of hobbits.
Memoirs of Lady Montrose
Lady Helen attends a Brighton Establishment to be sexually satisfied by their staff. Her husband Henry pays for this arrangement and together they relive the descriptions of her experiences there.
This idyllic arrangement falls apart when Christopher Mortlock, from Brighton, recognises Lady Helen in London and endeavours to blackmail her. He is unaware of Lord Henry’s involvement and Mortlock’s blackmail plot is turned around to the benefit of all three of them.
Mortlock agrees to a new arrangement to satisfy Lady Helen’s sexual needs and is inventive and athletic in his labours as their gardener and employee; until the day he introduces her to ‘Fairy Dust.’ Lord Henry’s wrath descends to save Lady Helen from addiction and punish Mortlock for his audacity.
A sexual romp that will titillate your senses as much as it delights Lady Montrose!
‘Christopher Mortlock – gardener extraordinaire.’
Everything you’d want from your gardener – and more, much more. Hedges trimmed and cravings tended with expert care and consideration.
Short Summary of Story
Christopher Mortlock is more than your average gardener. Born in the Welsh valleys, he works in Brighton, sexually satisfying ladies in need. He recognises Lady Montrose when out one evening in London and endeavours to blackmail her. Lord Montrose turns Mortlock’s blackmail attempt into a job offer and one day a week Mortlock cares for their garden and satisfies Lady Helen’s extra needs.
All is well until the day Mortlock exceeds his brief and faces the ire of Lord Montrose. Lady Montrose leaves for Scotland and Lord Montrose reins Mortlock in. A brief time in jail and Mortlock is “banished to the colonies” leaving behind more germinating than just the seeds in the garden.
His message, left on a nail in the garden shed last Thursday, had read ‘Hide and Seek’. He’d given her a week to think of a hiding place. She checked the time, stripped off her clothes, sprayed on some perfume and ran to the library. Her bare feet made no sound on the carpet. Behind the long velvet drapes in the library seemed the best solution and that’s where she now stood, on a stool to keep her toes from peeping out. Wrapped close around her the drapes kept her warm, until found. Just thinking about it raised her excitement and her sex thrummed its anticipation. The hall chime ten o’clock. Time for the game to begin.
Mortlock’s footsteps thumped and his murmurings grew to sound very cross as he hunted without success. Today he’d searched the library and in his hurry he’d missed her. He’d come so close the drapes had swayed. She’d suppressed a shiver and her nipples had hardened, brushed by the velvet. Now his heavy tread moved around upstairs as he looked, before he pounded down the staircase. The door of the billiard room thudded as it hit the wall. Moments later the library door opened, its familiar creak giving away his progress into the carpeted room.
Their love sessions were usually enacted in near silence, a hangover from Brighton more than a lack of something to say, but today he groaned, presumably with frustration but possibly, she hoped, with lust.
He began his second search of the room beginning on the opposite wall. She heard him opening the cupboards, shifting the couch away from the window wall, swishing the curtains. Her skin tingled, her sex heated and her muscles tightened low in her belly. The thrill of knowing he would find her at any moment made her legs weaken and with a swish the curtain yanked back. She stood revealed, shivering in the draught, her buttocks tense, her feet barely holding her on the low stool.
Her erect nipples ached, her flesh tingled with goose bumps and a giggle of delight escaped her as he stared, his gaze raking her from top to toe.
She stretched her arms up high to relieve their tension from being still for long minutes. Excitement bubbled and fizzed within her. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her against his bare chest. His exertions had given him a sheen of perspiration. She toppled as the stool tipped. He righted her while he sucked and nipped her breasts. He slid his other hand between her thighs. Hiding for so long had wound her like a coiled spring. She yelped in surprise . He released her and as the stool tipped once more he wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her steady.
“Minx.” He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder so her breasts rested on his back and her arse received a swift spank.
He marched with her, out of the library, and down the passage to the billiard room. With care, he placed her on the billiard table, already covered with an eiderdown from one of the guest rooms upstairs.
He’d been busy while he’d been searching. Without a word he leapt onto the table and spread her legs apart. Kneeling between her thighs he trailed his tongue in circles over her belly, up to her breasts where he circled and licked till she made protesting whimpers.
Desire surged through her limbs dampening her thighs and she moaned with frustration. With a sudden grab he lifted her hips and flipped her over. Her arms flailed to catch up. He pulled her rump, raising it and in response she knelt resting on her hands. Without pause he rammed his cock into her and pumped. She lowered herself onto her elbows. He held her fast at the hips pulling her back towards his body with every thrust, his strength such to render her helpless, yet sweetly so. She was possessed by male desire - and she loved his energy. She closed her eyes and wished it was Henry making love to her at this moment. Her sadness was overwhelmed by her body’s response.
Her clit rejoiced in being bumped by his balls with each thrust. She shifted her weight and stretched under her belly to reach back and grab them. They nestled in her hand and each time he reared back, she pulled them forwards across her hot wet sex. They stretched and he moaned, thrusting faster. Her tight grip obviously excited him. She squeezed and rolled his balls harder in response, until they shared a mutual explosion of heat. She enjoyed the sweeping sensation of the climax that rose from her clit, soared up her spine to her head and retreated slowly down again. Her limbs weakened and she folded to the quilt, taking him down with her. She rolled onto her back.
“Did I move to fast then, and hurt you?”
“Not likely. Look.” He crawled up, his knees on each side of her and displayed his cock, still stretched out hard and erect from his crotch, pointing towards his navel, his balls swinging with the movement. A triumphant smile lit his face.
“More?” he asked and she reached up and wrapped her hands around his shaft and sac, feeling his balls tighten and rise in anticipation. He lowered his cock to her face, but she turned her head away.
“Not today thank you.” Always polite, she smiled.
“Well I guess I’d better get back to the garden.” He jumped off the billiard table and she was glad Henry didn’t know they had romped on his sacred green baize.
“A moment, Mortlock.” She rolled on to her side, and propped her head on her hand. “My husband will be joining us next Thursday.” His face adopted a mask of servility, but not before she’d notice the flash of surprise.
“Ah, a ménage a trois. Very well m’lady. Until then.” He tugged his forelock and she recognised an air of arrogance behind the gesture. There was nothing servile about Mortlock at all. How he loved to play-act.
Left with the job of taking the eiderdown back she wrapped it around her shoulders. A chill brushed her naked body as the heat of her orgasm faded and covered in the feather-downed quilt she climbed the stairs.
Standing under a hot shower in her en-suite, luxuriating in the flow of the water over her back and buttocks she pictured Matlock showering in his rather grand garden shed. In her mind his hands were covered in bubbles as he stroked his appendage. Such a satisfying piece of equipment she thought, a chuckle rising in her throat.