His fingers skimmed over her back and the fabric parted. He bent forward and pressed a kiss to the top of her spine. “True, but I always imagined it this way.”
With a small moan, Amalia let him help her shake free of the layers of silk and lace so they pooled on the floor around her ankles. She climbed on top of him, straddling his waist, his fingers already gently stroking.
“Better than the ancients could’ve imagined,” he murmured.
“I doubt that. I believe they participated in orgies,” she managed, though already speaking was becoming rather difficult. She twisted a little, already inching backwards. He needed to be inside her already. Now, because if not she’d combust.
“I don’t think I’d enjoy an orgy. I believe I might have a jealous streak.” He pressed his hands firm, holding her in place. “You may be on top but I’m still setting the pace.”
“Is that so?” Fizzles danced through her body.
“Yes. I’m going to lead. Like in the ballroom tonight, I prefer a waltz, a slow one.” He lifted one hand and trailed it down her body, from her neck all the way down just above the area that ached for him.
She glanced down at him. He really did have the most stunning shoulders. At the party, the thin material of Thad’s shirt left nothing to the imagination. How many women had stared at him like that? Something inside Amalia clenched. Jealous streak, ha, he had no idea.
Though at least only she was able to see him like this.
“Mercy, Amalia, there’s never been anyone but you, not since that first stroke under the table.” He removed his spectacles and laid them on a chair.
She placed her hands on his shoulders and bent down, taking his mouth in hers.
Hickory, and mint, and dark hunger grasped her senses as lust danced in her veins. She brushed her chest against his—smooth against rough. She reached up and ran her hands through his thick, wavy hair that he could never, ever cut.
David moaned into her mouth as she opened for him, inviting his tongue inside her. Inviting everything that was him inside her, willing him to understand all the words she couldn’t quite form.
Too soon, he broke the kiss, but not all the contact. He ran his hand down her cheek, tracing her lips. She parted them and he permitted her to suck his finger for a moment.
“You’re a handsome man,” she told him, when he withdrew it. “Especially in tight clothing. Half the maids were whispering and fanning themselves every time you walked by. I’m just rather fortunate that you are blind to that or I’d be here alone.”
“Not a chance.” He moved his hand between them so he could cup her breast, teasing her bosom.
Her body responded with dizzying speed, both nipples taut. It took all her self-control not to demand he suck on both of them that instant.
“There’s no one I want the way I want you.” His eyes grew serious for a moment, locked on hers. “Though, now that we are here, I want to make sure you feel the same way. Remember, you can tell me to stop at any time.”
“I know.” And she did and she could, but that night, that night she needed him to never stop.
With all her remaining fortitude, she resettled herself into the position he’d promised as he securely held her hips once more. “I want this. I want the lust, the danger, and more than anything I want you—the you that you are now.” Any way I can have you. Forever, if I could.
“All right.” He tightened his grip. “Let’s see how much we can accomplish in, oh, fifteen minutes?”
Amalia whimpered as he gentled his thumbs over her hips, moving closer and closer to her center.
“And more later?” she gasped.
“Well, the gazebo is appealing, especially since I’d like to make you scream my name.”
And she did just that as he stroked her already wet inner lips.
“Shh,” he admonished.
She dipped her head back as he pressed one, then two fingers inside her while stroking her bud with his thumb.
Oh god, she was going to shiver and shake and shudder before he even entered her.
“I’m going for speed, quantity, and quality, Amalia, so relax and let it come.”
She did and he was true to his word. About all of it. The shocks hadn’t finished when he spread her legs wider, before wrapping his arms around her waist. He pulled her towards his mouth and licked.
* * *
God, she was beautiful. And strong. Lucky he still had his reflexes or she would’ve fallen off the bed when she bucked. David grabbed both smooth thighs as he took her with his mouth, savoring her swollen, ready arousal. He stroked in and out and around all that was her. Nothing tasted as sweet as Amalia.
He secured one of her legs behind his head as she made muffled cries from above. Even with her hand thrown over her mouth, his name was clear and that made everything in his body yearn for her and only her. He managed to press two fingers inside her again, locating the spot that’d make her cry out. In moments she was clenching around him once more, her body shuddering, near convulsing with pleasure.
Gorgeous, she was just so gorgeous like this.
“David,” she called out. “David, hurry, we’re running out of time. You need to...finish...”
He had to work not to laugh. “I’ll finish. Trust me.” There was no way he was missing out on that.
But she was right. They were running out of time. Though later, if he could find a way to be with her, he’d do that over and over again, holding off his own pleasure, just to watch her like this, delighting in her and the glorious excruciating anticipation.
“Please,” she called. “You have to. I need you, all of you inside me. I need you to be a part of me before...”
Well, if she put it that way... He lifted her a little so she could slide down his body.
Oh god, his body ached for her. She lifted herself up a little and he guided himself inside her gently, even as desire coursed through every vein. She felt so right around him, as if he was home, as if he was where he belonged, as if everything could somehow make sense when he was there, buried deep inside her. As if he already succeeded and could never hurt her, never let her down.
“Faster,” she moaned and wriggled as he moved inside her. “Please, make me unable to think, only feel.”
If only. If he could just create that for both of them.
“Please, David, please.” Amalia half cried, half moaned the words and made another swivel with her bottom, right against him, and as if by magic, the doubts and voices and longing was gone, replaced by need and lust and her, only her.
He did as she asked, setting the pace, filling her and withdrawing, only to thrust into her, giving them each the union, the joinder, again and again.
In mere moments, he’d thrown his head back, crying out her name as everything, even the danger and the party, faded away so there was only the two of them—together, in the house, as they were, but new and different and better. Full circle, but so much more.
David managed to move one hand around to stroke her, willing himself to memorize the desire—desire for him so apparent in every one of her features. Amalia’s nails dug into his shoulders, marking him as her entire body stiffened before she clenched around him once more, her heavy lashes fanning as she squeezed her eyes shut and moaned.
Her reaction was all his body needed to lose any semblance of control. His hips rose off the mattress and everything that was him poured into her as her muscles milked his cock, almost taking his soul with his come.
They collapsed against each other, skin to skin.
“Shh,” he whispered. “It’ll be all right.”
She nodded and mumbled something unintelligible, her face still on his shoulder. He brushed her silky nut-brown curls, arranging them so they were neat once more. After all, she’d not like anyone to think she was messy.
David kissed the side of
her neck as he rubbed her back. “There you are.” He kissed her forehead. “That was beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
Amalia pulled back and stared into his face, her lips pursed as if she was searching for something. He grabbed his handkerchief from the bedside table and dabbed as carefully as he could so not to ruin her cosmetics.
“Thank you,” she said, as he finished and tucked the article in the pocket of his jacket, which he’d hung on the bedpost. He shifted her a little so she could still cling to him as he eased off the condom.
“It’s nothing.” He planted another soft kiss on her neck, and then another and another as he moved them both to the edge of the bed so they could dress once more. At least he enjoyed the gown. She needed more of these necklines.
“No, thank you for...that, and for everything. For being here and for being you.” She ran her hand through his hair, tickling his scalp and neck. God, that was good, so good. The tingles she sent through his spine when she did that were everything, enough to make him ready to go again, however ill-advised.
“Who else would I be?” he managed to say. He caught her wrist and brought it to his mouth, sucking on the area where glove met flesh. “And there’s no person I’d rather be with and no place I’d rather be than in your bed.”
God help him, that was true.
“Same,” she whispered and laid her head against his shoulder. The two sat in silence, on the floor, her long skirts blanketing his legs. “David?” she finally asked, lifting her head to meet his eye once more.
He swallowed at the catch in her voice. “What?”
Amalia reached up and stroked his beard before tracing his lips for a moment. It was his turn to suck on her finger. He couldn’t help himself. She giggled a little, before moaning. She closed her eyes for a moment, and, to his immense pride, had to grit her teeth before pulling herself free.
“I’m serious.” She pouted a little, before her eyes and lips softened as she stared at him again. “I...um... I just wanted to say...”
David started. A noise. He placed a hand over her lips. “Wait, did you hear that?”
Voices, muffled, but growing louder and footsteps, close, ascending the stair and stopping, not at the study, but right outside the door. A knocking rattled the frame.
“Amalia. I know you’re in there. Everyone does.”
Thad.
David shuddered.
“Get dressed.” The door jiggled. “We’re waiting in the other room for you. We want to beat you in poker, and, well, Father wants to do a different sort of beating when it comes to David and making him wait will only make him angrier.”
The two stared at each other again, opened their mouths and dissolved into ill-advised giggles. They were in such trouble. Hopefully, Thad hadn’t inherited his skills with weaponry from his father.
Chapter Twenty-Five
David picked at his fingernails while Amalia bit hers. Jonah was probably more comfortable inside the whale. Somehow, not only were they caught, but they permitted Thad to herd them into Mr. Truitt’s study to play cards. Well, Amalia was playing cards. He was working, or pretending to work at least, mulling over papers instead of meeting any of her relatives’ gazes. Though he couldn’t help taking small peeks around the game table.
Thad kept covering his mouth with his hand and making odd hog-like noises every time he glanced at his sister. Jay Truitt glowered from behind his cards, which was better than he deserved. The man did indeed take a swing at him when he and Amalia emerged from the room, but his wife had caught his arm. After a few harsh whispers, Jay had been calmed down enough to sit. And only pound his fists against the table every so often.
For her part, Mrs. Truitt sidled up to him to whisper the words “consider yourself lucky I have a long memory and am not a hypocrite” in his ear. Afterwards, Amalia’s mother sat like a statue, surveying the faces around her, not a hint of emotion about anything she might have seen and heard.
He returned to the papers—he might as well make himself useful. He chewed his thumb as he read.
The man caught by the Pittsburgh police had very few belongings on his person, and nothing indicating he knew Amalia in any way. Which was similar to the suspect Elias had run-down in Bedford. Though agents had searched both residences and made a list of every single associate and correspondent from each.
“I fold. As always. You all read me too easily,” Amalia said, before rising and moving towards him. Her mother caught her hand and tutted, inclining her head towards her father, who scowled in his direction.
“I raise,” Mrs. Truitt said, her voice rather loud. David sighed and bent down as if he was really intent on the pages in front of him.
“So, Amalia, what are your plans now that you’re home? Lydia said something about Hebrew School?” Mr. Truitt asked, as he tossed another coin in the pot.
“I’m not sure about that.”
“Why not? You certainly project well enough to lead a class.” Thad snickered before folding. His father glared at him, though an odd snort came from his mother.
Amalia’s cheeks no longer needed beetroot. Neither did her forehead nor chin. David ducked back down, studying the list of names. None of them familiar...except...he bit his lip. Louis Walker. On the Bedford list. It was written upon a scrap of paper on the man’s person. Common enough, but he was sure he’d read it somewhere else. He flipped through more pages.
“I did well when I attended. Better than at anything else.” Amalia lifted her chin, before her father folded and her mother swept her winnings into a pile.
“You certainly did.” Jay Truitt nodded. “You always enjoyed things in Philadelphia. Your brother knew that. Probably why he left you the house.” There was a catch in his voice.
“And I get on with mother’s cousins. And Lydia.” Amalia shuffled the deck.
“As well as anyone can get on with Lydia.” Mrs. Truitt rolled her eyes as Amalia dealt and they all laughed.
David drummed his fingers as he stared at the happy family. A pang twinging beneath his ribs. Would he ever belong like that? Would he ever fit, even if Amalia was willing to find a place for him in her world? Or would he always be an outsider?
Not that he necessarily needed all of this familial mishegas. The work came first, of course. And there was so much to do. Protect the progress towards equality made after the war, push for equal pay for equal work, women’s rights, and an end to child labor... Which he’d have to find a way to do while running an office. Which was possible, right?
Thad had moved on to teasing his sister on her wager. He sighed. Back to work. His other work. His job. Louis Walker. He had to find the name. He shuffled the papers again, scanning and scanning, but it was nowhere.
He tugged at his collar. Was the room becoming warm? He slammed a hand down on the table.
Four heads swiveled towards him.
“Are you all right?” Amalia asked.
“Fine, fine.” He yanked at his tie. “I found a name I know I’ve seen somewhere.”
In an instant Amalia was at his side, cards forgotten, leaning over his shoulder, silk grazing wool. “What are we looking at?”
“The man from Bedford. He had a name on him. Walker, Louis Walker.” He raised his head. A lock of hair had come undone and flopped on her forehead. He swiped it off and tucked it behind her ear. She smiled at him.
Jay Truitt cleared his throat.
“We’re all still here,” Thad called.
Right. Professional.
He folded his hands and addressed all of them. “Does that sound familiar to you? Any of you?”
Amalia’s brow wrinkled and she shook her head in the negative. Both Thad and Jay shrugged, but Mrs. Truitt twisted her lips to the side and squinted. “Maybe...” She turned to Amalia. “During your first divorce, the judge’s bailiff, wasn’t his name Walker?”
“
How can you possibly remember a name of a person you saw maybe once or twice, five years ago?” Mr. Truitt’s voice was a mix of skepticism and admiration.
“I have a memory for...everything,” she said. Her husband beamed at her, while she returned an almost shy smile that made something inside David ache.
“Where’s your dossier on me?” Amalia asked, before brushing her hand over his, sending warm tingles through his entire body. “There has to be something in there with his name on it, if that’s where you read it.”
“It’s...” He leaped out of his seat and crossed the room in four steps, Amalia right on his heels. Swinging the door open he stuck his head out in the hall. “Will, Meg, can you fetch the dossier for me?”
Except his friends weren’t in the hall. He blinked, blinded for a moment by the bright, flickering glow of the gilded sconces. He turned to the left.
Empty. Just doors and portraits of a bunch of long-dead Truitt ancestors. He pivoted to the right and gasped.
Pistol.
Man too, presumably, but he couldn’t make his eyes stray from the barrel aimed directly at his nose. There was a rushing in his ears. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
“David.” Amalia’s scream pierced the air as she pushed him down to the ground, her body falling on his right before the shot rang through the air.
More shouts and scuffling as Thad and Jay Truitt wrestled the man to the ground and his gun away from him.
“Damn it, where were you two?” David called to Meg and Will, as his voice and wits returned. Late. Far too late.
Footfalls pounded the floor before skidding on a runner. He scooted Amalia to the side so he could help her to her feet. Something wet and sticky slid down his hand.
For a moment everything stopped. The smell was enough to put him back in that place. Blood mingled with the gunpowder and...he gagged as Mrs. Truitt rushed through the threshold, crying Amalia’s name. She grabbed her daughter from him, and with Meg’s help took her into the bedroom, ordering the men to fetch a doctor.
Dalliances & Devotion Page 23