by Sakwa, Kim
Alexander kissed the top of his daughter’s head and watched Janey and Beatrice fawn all over her as they left the room. Then he turned his full attention back to Amanda. He slid her closer, rubbed his hands on her thighs, clad in another pair of his favorite breeches, which she’d hemmed and taken in. Then leaned in and told her, “I want my pants back.”
“Down, boy,” she teased as he closed the distance between them.
Alexander couldn’t remember lifting Amanda to his lap, but there she was, and bloody hell, she felt good. He couldn’t get her close enough. He’d missed her so much. His arms wrapped around her back, his hands tangled through her hair until he was holding her head just the way he wanted, then he pulled her in tight and kissed the breath from her. Once he started, he couldn’t stop. Could not get enough. He canted her head just right and went in deeper—bloody hell!
His wife moaned as the heat and friction between them became combustible. She was so expressive, loving to touch and be touched in return. Her legs wound around his waist and sounds of their wet and carnal kissing intensified his arousal. Needing much more, Alexander stood. Easily. Standing wasn’t the problem; the bloody problem was that he’d actually forgotten where they were for a moment. Amanda’s legs were wrapped tight around his waist, her arms around his neck and her hands in his hair. He couldn’t think between the noise of the blood rushing in his head and the low moans Amanda was making as she kissed him. He had to admit he liked how out of control she was. Then realized he was too. Thinking to…bloody hell, he couldn’t think! Every time he took a step, his erection rubbed against her center. Actually, it wasn’t just from the steps he was taking; his hands on her hips were moving her that way. Seconds later he’d pinned her to the wall, close to the entrance to the hall. Jesus, he couldn’t make it out of the blasted room!
He held her there, his body pressed so tight to hers that if not for their clothes he’d be inside her already. Her legs stretched wide around his waist, the soft thin fabric between them providing little protection, and he could feel the heat as her moisture pooled between them. He knew he was in just the right position, and at just the right angle as he rocked against her. So inflamed, knowing he could play her, make her release, right here, right now. And loving to have that power over her, he kissed her most naughtily now, and gave her a long hard rub as his hand pressed up her body, cupped her breast, and squeezed. She whispered “Ohmygod” as her body started to coil against him. He felt it, as she lay just on the edge and repeated the motions again and again until she mewed into his mouth and broke into a thousand tiny pieces.
Alexander captured that bloody sweet sound she made as she released against him, and he slowed their kissing while he waited for her body to calm. Somehow, he moved them from the wall out into the hallway. Still kissing, her center, so wet between them now, and her legs wrapped around his waist, it was only seconds before they were back to their loud smacking sounds. Bloody hell! He made it to the landing of the stairs this time, another wall, another few moments of moans and grunts, as he kissed her hard, and she held him tight with those long strong legs. She was rubbing against him, and he honestly wasn’t sure he’d last another bout of foreplay, but he couldn’t step from the wall. He needed to get her upstairs. All the stairs. And into his chamber. Amanda was saying something, but he couldn’t make out the words. She tugged on his hair and he finally came up for air. Bloody hell, her whisper had him moving as she used a word that he knew meant business.
He got the message, loud and clear, and seconds later, kicked open the door to their room. He kicked it just right, too, because no sooner had they passed through, did it slam behind them. He didn’t take her to the bed, bloody hell, he laid her down on the floor as soon as they cleared the entrance. Both hands at her hips, he dragged off her trousers and somehow released himself from his. She trembled as he looked down at her, kneeling between her legs and using his hands to make sure she was ready for him. He touched and played with her a moment too long as she whimpered and motioned for him to come to her. Grabbing her knee, he moved it forward as he came over her and slid inside.
Bloody hell! He was inside her! So hot, so tight, so his! Her hands cupped his face as she wrapped the leg he brought up for better access around his hip, allowing him to slowly sink in deeper. His grunt of approval was met with a long, throaty moan as her eyes widened and he began to move. Slowly, watching her expressive face, knowing what he saw was a mirror of his own. He felt her body begin to coil, knew he was right there with her and with a final thrust released deep within her.
It took Amanda way more than a few minutes to come back down to earth. Her husband took her on the most exhilarating expeditions. She was so happy to be wrapped in his arms again, beneath the heaviness of his weight. She was of the firm mind that there were worse things than being stuck in the eighteenth century, married to her Royal Navy admiral who was also secretly a spy as the American Revolution was about to unfold, and absolutely nothing better. Finally catching her breath, she whispered, “Oh my God, how did that happen?”
He gave a half grunt from above her, elbows bearing his weight, his head on her chest. “Do you need me to explain it to you?” he teased, his voice low and raspy. Sexy as hell too.
“Well, yeah,” she answered.
“The graphic detail part of it?” he asked. “Or that I swear it was predestined from the moment I first touched you, Amanda Abigail Montgomery.”
“How about both?” she told him. He laughed then, as if something had dawned on him, and shook his head. “What’s so funny?”
“Trust me, you don’t want me to tell you.” He shifted to lie next to her on his side and pulled her snugly against him.
“Yes, I do, Alexander,” she argued.
“You really want me to tell you what’s so amusing?”
“Is there an echo in here?” She pinched him to send the message loud and clear: out with it.
“Alright, but remember, it was you who asked.” He started laughing then, so amused with whatever he was thinking.
“Alexander!” she cried, enjoying the push and pull of their conversation.
“We passed four servants and three of my men on our way up here.”
“Shut the front door!” She whacked him, suddenly feeling herself go a deep crimson.
“Yes,” he assured her, grinning wickedly, “we did.”
“Oh my God,” Amanda groaned. Then her eyes went wide as she had a panicked thought. “Did they…?” She trailed off, not willing to ask so directly if they’d witnessed her orgasm, as good as it was.
“No, Amanda,” he assured her. “We were alone in the parlor.”
Right, she remembered, some of the tension seeping out of her. She’d sworn, though, that when he had her pressed against the wall, they’d already reached the landing. “Did they hear?” she whispered.
“Our kissing?” he asked. “Bloody hell, Amanda, all of London probably heard our kissing,” he told her quite honestly.
“That’s not what I meant, and we’re not that loud,” she said, giving him a playful punch on the arm, even though she knew very well that they had been that loud.
He gave her a look that let her know he thought she was out of her mind. “If not our kissing, did they hear what then?”
“You mean the fact that I had to beg, b-e-g beg you to quit messing around and get down to business?” she said, rolling her eyes.
Shaking his head, he laughed and said, “That’s not quite the way I remember it.”
“Well, it was so long ago, who cares about the particulars.”
He laughed and leaned down to kiss her. “Bloody hell, woman! I care about the particulars.” He kissed her again. “And taking you on the floor but two steps from the door was not what I had in mind,” he admitted. “I didn’t even get out of my breeches!”
Amanda grinned. “But you did get me out of mine.” Shaking
his head at her, he stood and held out his hand. She took it instantly. Then he led her to the bed where he pulled off her shirt, removed his own clothes, and fell in beside her. They lay quietly for a few minutes, then Alexander rolled on top of her, nudging her legs apart and getting very comfortable. Skin to skin contact was amazing. She brushed her fingers through his hair, a luxury she’d come to cherish in such a short time. He lay his head on her chest and in that moment, she wished they could stay like this forever. She loved this man so much and he’d been gone almost three weeks this time. She worried over him terribly, knowing they were on the brink of war, and how dangerous this game of spying was for him. For all of them.
She’d been shocked when he’d confided to her his allegiance to the Colonists. Not that his allegiance was shocking. Alexander Montgomery, she’d learned of her time with him, was his own man, a free thinker, and very ambitious. She’d just happened to ask him point-blank why he was suddenly being so secretive, in his own home no less, while speaking with his own men. It seemed that overnight they’d all suddenly started looking over their shoulders. To his credit, he’d come right out with it. They’d shared so much between them, he’d not held back even a second. Apparently, he thought he’d been tailed after a dinner with a few prominent congress members, and she’d reeled a bit as he mentioned the names of some of America’s founding fathers. While he’d told her he’d always planned to move to America, he warned that now it may be a case of fleeing instead. It would depend on whether his name was being bandied about in certain circles. If so they would evacuate and soon. She damned herself for not paying closer attention in history class. Especially now that she was living a part of that history. It had never occurred to her until this very moment that this could be why there had never been any mention of Alexander past the year 1774 in all her reading about him. Had leaving for America caused them to write him off as a deserter? She’d follow him, of course, but how sad it would be to leave this beautiful castle, her favorite home, no matter the century.
In fact, the last three weeks without her husband passed quickly. During the day she walked the flower gardens, had tea parties with Callie, and read some incredible classics from the estate’s library. First editions, no less! She wrote letters to Alexander each night, a habit they had begun the first time he was called away. She actually felt heartsick. Who knew it was really a thing? And with each letter she wrote, Alexander answered each time.
Stephen had removed her stitches as she’d told Alexander two weeks ago. He’d found her going through her closets with Beatrice and Janey while Callie lay on her bed giggling. She’d formed a truce with her lovely servants. Beatrice could “dress” her each morning, but after supper, all bets were off—as in time to rifle Alexander’s drawers for more pants in that soft nubuck material she was becoming partial to. Stephen had watched, shaking his head and grinning at the display. “Come,” he’d said, motioning with his hand. He’d straddled the ottoman and a second later she’d joined him and extended her hand. Her nose crinkled even now, remembering the anticipation she’d felt as he’d fingered the threads and inspected the wound. Once he’d declared it healed, Stephen had held her hand in such a way that she’d barely felt the pull as he removed each stitch. He’d spent another minute working her hand this way and that, before nodding, looking as relieved as she felt. She would be able to play the piano again. She looked at the scar now, knowing it would always be a memory of her time here, then tangled it back in Alexander’s hair.
“I want to hear the particulars again,” Alex whispered in her ear, pulling her out of her thoughts and back into the moment—this moment with her husband, in bed.
“You mean, quit messing around and get down to business?” Amanda teased him.
He shook his head. “Tell me, Amanda.”
The seriousness and authority in his voice added to her excitement, and needing no further prodding, she kissed him back and whispered, “I need you, Alexander.” But her husband wasn’t finished with her. He stretched her arms above her head, then used his mouth and fingers to bring her this close to the edge again.
“Tell me,” he demanded again.
“I need you, Alexander,” she whispered, and told him again in detail just what she meant.
He pushed inside her with a hiss and waited for her to stretch her legs around him, allowing him to sink all the way home.
Amanda pressed her heels into Alexander’s back, keeping him still while she adjusted to him. When she eased her leg muscles, he waited for her nod before he started moving. He was being so gentle now that she was getting a little frustrated, and she cupped his face and told him so. And what she expected him to do about it. She got a “bloody hell” in return and just what she’d asked for.
Alexander lay on his back, his arm casually folded behind his head. Amanda was tucked into his side, sound asleep. They’d had a hot bath by the fire after their last bout of lovemaking, changed, and went to Callesandra’s room. She was waiting for them; he could see her excitement when they walked in together. Given his absence over the last few weeks, he realized she’d so rarely seen her parents both happy, let alone both happy together and at the same time. Her long auburn hair framed her beautiful face, and her white bedgown looked like it had been shortened to above the knee. She jumped on the bed, barely able to contain herself. Alexander had never seen her this way, and knew it was from the attention Amanda had been giving her. She gave him a hug when he got close enough and led him to just the spot she wanted him, sitting against the headboard that had been piled with pillows. She came and sat cross-legged facing him and arranged her hairbrush and some ribbons on the bed. Then she grinned at him; bloody hell, she was anticipating what came next and couldn’t wait for him to see it, he realized. She was showing off for him, showing off her new mama. Amanda sat behind her and picked up the brush and gently started pulling it through her hair. He winked at his daughter, a clear conspiratorial I know how you feel, and started reading. He was halfway through when Amanda had finished this new routine and Callesandra’s hair was pulled back and tied with a slew of ribbons. Then Amanda curled into his side and pulled his daughter between them. Three stories later, they left her tucked into bed while Janey knit before the fire.
He’d started back toward his chamber but stopped when Amanda tugged on his hand. She waited for his full attention. Looking at her, he knew just what she was thinking. Didn’t she know he thought about their present circumstances more than anything else? He was anxious to sail for America and making their final arrangements. Until his family was safely overseas, he’d not rest easy. She’d just taken a deep breath and started to speak his name when Stephen interrupted them. This late into the evening, Alexander knew it had to be important. He kissed Amanda’s forehead, promising to have this conversation later.
It was a habit that started shortly after Amanda became a resident in his home. Talking. Deeply. To one another. Bloody hell, who knew that was what could actually happen when two people respected and loved one another. Their bond only got stronger, especially after they married. One of many nights he would never forget. By then they’d spent countless hours and nights trying to figure out what had actually occurred, as in how did Amanda come to be here in the eighteenth century when as he could hear her say in his mind—shut the front door—she was born in the twenty-first, which was a year that seemed impossible to Alexander, certainly impossible to picture. He hadn’t believed her at first, had actually thought that perhaps she was the sorcerer the servants whispered about, but after a while it started to actually make sense. Her strange way of talking. Her funny accent. The things she said existed in the future, there were too many of them and too detailed for her to be making it up. Then, of course, there were the breeches, which she said women wore all the time where she was from.
That night, he’d found her lying next to Callesandra as she slept. Not unusual as his business could carry on at any time. “Come with me
, Amanda,” Alexander had whispered to her. That had been eight weeks ago already. Time was flying.
“Where are you taking me?” she’d asked, after settling the covers around Callie.
“Downstairs,” he’d said, taking her hand and leading her away. “There’s a matter that requires immediate attention.” At that, she’d stopped dead in her tracks. “Don’t be scared, Amanda.” He’d shaken his head and looked imploringly at her.
“Will you do something for me?” Amanda had asked.
“Of course. What do you wish me to do?”
“Close your eyes,” she’d whispered. “Just for a second…please.”
Alexander had done as he was told and waited. He’d felt Amanda step closer, wrap her arms around his waist, and lean against him. Had his eyes not already been closed, he would have done so now. Bloody hell, she’d just wanted to be held, and he’d wanted—still wanted—nothing more than to hold her back. He’d wrapped his arms around her and gathered her close, pressing his back to the wall, which had made her physically relax into him.
“I’m still scared, Alexander,” she’d said after a long moment.
“Look at me, Amanda.”
She’d slowly pushed away and tilted her face to look up at him. He’d pulled her back. “I didn’t say to let go,” he’d laughed. “I said to look at me.”
His hands had splayed across her back, moving slowly to her neck, then through her hair. He’d only meant to kiss her quickly, reassurance to ease her fears. So many rugs seemed at the ready to be pulled from under them. This business of Amanda’s being here, for one—was it permanent? they’d wondered. Add to that his ever-precarious situation between his false allegiance to the Royal Navy and genuine loyalty to the Continental Congress, who he was in fact in talks with about the creation of the Continental Navy. But as he’d pulled away, the loss was tangible. One kiss never seemed to be enough for him with Amanda.