Siren's Song

by D. L. Snow

  Behind his back, he tugged on his cuffs until his hands were free. With one hand he circled my waist and with the other he cupped my face. I turned my face inside his palm and kissed it. “And here I am. Alive in a time I shouldn’t be.”

  Morgan groaned softly as I nibbled on the pad at the base of his pinky. “That person who saved you?” I said softly. “That’s the same person who brought me here. Morgan, that person is you.”

  He wanted to deny it. I could see the struggle on his face. But after a heavy exhalation, he seemed to give up the fight and suddenly his lips were on mine and he was kissing me as if he were drowning and only my lips could save him. I did my best to kiss him into believing the impossible, to kiss him into salvation.

  “Tell me,” he groaned. “Is that why I taste you in everything I put into my mouth?” He kissed my brow, my cheek and nibbled the lobe of my ear. “Is that why I smell you in every ray of sunshine?” He slid his tongue along the inside of my lips, dipping it into my mouth and then withdrawing. “Even in sleep you’re there with me…singing to me…”

  He rested his forehead against mine, rubbing his thumb across my lips. I parted and drew him in, sucking, wrapping my tongue around him, wanting more. He gently pulled his thumb down my lower lip and chin leaving a trail of moisture all the way to the hollow of my neck. Tugging on the pink ribbon at the top of my nightgown, he loosened it and my head fell back as he stroked my neck and collarbones.

  “God I want you.”

  He trailed his hands over the sheer fabric that hardly covered my body, drawing delicate circles over my taut nipples. Then he cupped my breasts and I moaned.

  “When I saw you half-dead in that pond, I thought I would die too. Even then I felt as if I knew you. Even then I wanted you.”

  “Morgan,” I sighed.

  He bent low and used his tongue to tease my nipple through the thin cotton of my nightgown. I arched my back to meet him, threading my fingers through his deliciously thick hair. He moaned as he kissed one breast and then the other.

  “Take off your gown.”

  Slowly, slowly I loosened the ribbon until the lace collar gaped over one shoulder. Wriggling my body, the gown slid off both my shoulders, baring my breasts.

  The sound of Morgan’s hasty intake of breath spurred me on. Perhaps I was acting like a harlot, the way I gyrated my body beneath his fevered gaze, the way I licked and bit my plumped lips. But in that moment I wasn’t playing at anything. I was simply doing exactly what I wanted.

  “Take it off and lie down.”

  One twist of my hips and the gown slid to the ground. Without breaking eye contact, I lowered myself onto the bed, letting my legs fall open just enough for the cool air to tickle my heated thighs. Did he mean to torture me by taking so long to remove his trousers? Maybe. But it was delicious torture. Watching him strip had me aching for his touch, longing to see the sight of his body, naked and hard…for me and me alone. When he was done undressing, he cradled himself in his hand.

  “Come here,” I whispered.

  He drew nearer to the bed and I reached for him, sighing with pleasure at the sound he made while I stroked him, teasing that delicate skin that covered his hard length.

  “Ah, Woman.” He kneeled between my parted legs and gazed at me. “You are unbearably beautiful.” Then he lowered his weight on top of me.

  Oh! The sensation of Morgan’s body on mine! I pressed myself against his whole length wanting him as close as possible, rubbing my breasts against his bare chest and twining my legs around his.

  He grasped my hair and kissed me hard while his hips moved in deliciously languid circles. His kisses moved down to my neck where he sucked on the tender flesh below my ear. I turned to give him better access but he was on the move again, kissing, nipping and sucking my skin until he found the top of my breasts. He held the full underside of my breast in one hand while he teased my nipple with his tongue. Then he drew away, blowing warm air across it, making me ache for the touch of his mouth.

  “Oh, God! Please!” I cried.

  He finally gave in to my demands, sucking harder than he had before as I held his head in place, lifting my chest to meet his mouth. When his knees put pressure against the inside of my legs, I opened gladly, wriggling towards him, aching for him to press himself against the heat of my core. His hips made slow grinding circles as he devoured my breasts and I suddenly felt as if I was riding a rogue wave and was about to be tossed against a rocky cliff – about to be shattered.

  He lifted his head to look at me, his pupils dilated and hungry. Stroking the damp hair from my forehead, he whispered, “You feel it too. The connection. Don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I murmured, as I ran my hands up and down his strong back. “It’s so powerful, I…”

  “I know.” He kissed me again, softly, and I kissed him back, while I thrust my pelvis forward, wrapping my legs around his waist, rocking to the rhythm of his hips. If I was going to drown, I was taking him with me.

  “Oh Josslyn,” he whispered.

  I stilled. “What did you say?”

  His hand slid lower, across my hips and down to the top of my pubic bone. “I said Josslyn.”

  He’d used my name. My real name. Not Joss, not Jo-Jo. He’d called me Josslyn. I could have wept, perhaps I did, but when his hand found that spot between my legs, my tears of joy turned to moans of pleasure as I thrust my hips with a longing only he could satisfy. All rational thought left me and I became aware only of him. Morgan’s hands, Morgan’s lips, Morgan’s touch, the sound of his breath, the rise and fall of his chest against mine.

  “Josslyn,” he moaned as I felt his hand between us. “Tell me you want me.”

  His hard flesh pushed up against my opening. “I want you, Morgan,” I whispered. “I want you.”

  Was it because I’d said his name that he groaned and thrust with such fierce abandon? I didn’t know and I didn’t care because I met each of his thrusts with equal enthusiasm, calling out his name again and again as he pounded inside of me.

  I couldn’t get enough. With my legs around his waist, I tried to force him as deeply into me as possible. I held onto his powerful back and felt each and every thrust both inside and out until I quaked with an orgasm of such ferocity, it threatened to tear me apart.

  “Joss, oh Joss!” he cried as he pressed my shoulders into the mattress beneath him, driving once, twice, three more times before he held himself aloft, his face contorted in pleasure and pain as he came deep inside of me.

  Collapsing on top of me, Morgan rolled our bodies to the side so we were facing one another.

  “Ah, Love. I’m sorry that was not done with more finesse,” he murmured as he stroked the length of my thigh. “I promise it will be more satisfying once we are married.”

  “Married?” I sat up. “Who said anything about marriage?”

  “Darling,” he said as he pulled me back down, “how many times have you insisted that you are not a lady of the evening? How many times have I insisted that I will not pay for a woman’s favor? That leaves us only one option.” He kissed my shoulder. “Why shouldn’t we marry?”

  “Because,” I rolled over and crawled off of the bed. “If I marry you, I’ll never get back home again.” I pulled my nightgown over my head and slid my dressing gown around my shoulders.

  Morgan was sitting up watching me. Before I could leave he got out of bed and stood in front of the door, blocking my way. “How do you know that your home isn’t here, with me?”

  I bit my lip in an attempt to control its trembling. I touched his chest, his scar. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “Maybe it is, but…I’m just not sure, okay? I need some time to think.”

  He clasped my wandering hand and pressed it to his lips. “Don’t take too long,” he said. “Because I plan to marry you by the end of the week.”

  I tiptoed back to my room and slid into bed, hoping I wouldn't wake Camille. It took me ages to fall asleep as my mind flip-flopped between making lo
ve to Morgan to considering his proposal.

  Why had I said no? Why hadn’t I stayed right where I was, slept in his arms, made love to him before dawn and married him in the morning? A part of me wanted nothing else.

  But there was another part of me that wanted something quite different. I wanted to go home and I wanted to be the person I was meant to be. The person my mother and grandmother would have been proud of.

  I must have fallen asleep eventually because sometime in the middle of the night I woke to the sound of crying. I lit a lamp and turned to find Camille sitting up in bed with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Camille, what’s wrong?”

  “Kitty made me promise to keep an eye on you. She said you’d better not be giving away for free what others were willing to pay good money for.”

  Kitty!

  “It’s okay,” I said softly. “You don’t need to worry about what happened between me and Mr. Hawes.”

  Camille cast her sad eyes skyward. “These walls are paper thin, Miss Sullivan. I know what I heard. I know all about these things. More than you might think.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Camille rested her chin against her chest and twisted the sheets around in her hands.

  “Camille, how do you know so much about these things?”

  She still didn’t answer.

  “Camille?” I said softly and pried her hands from the twisted sheets.

  “My sister’s husband,” she murmured. “He wanted exactly the same thing from me that Mr. Hawes and Mr. Ellis want from you. I’m not an ignorant baby, you know.”

  “Oh Camille,” I cried as I squeezed her hands. “Did he hurt you?”

  She bit her lip. It was answer enough.

  “Is that why your sister sent you away?”

  Her nod was almost imperceptible.

  I shook my head in disgust. “And now I suppose Kitty plans to make money off you too.”

  “You got it wrong, Miss Sullivan.” She shook her head so hard her braids whipped back and forth across her back. “Kitty took me in, she’s cared for me and promised me she wouldn’t make me do those things as long as I worked hard and obey.” She gazed up at me with luminous eyes. “She’s a good woman. A woman of her word.”

  “Her word! What is her word worth?”

  “Plenty! Life’s not been easy for her either, you know. She was younger than me when she came out west and now look at her, she runs her very own tavern and hotel.”

  “Right,” I sneered. “Her and that dead husband of hers.”

  Camille gasped. “Don’t you go saying such things.”

  “Why not? It’s true isn’t it? He’s alive in name only?”

  Camille lowered her voice as if others might be listening. “If word got out that her husband is gone, she’d lose everything.”

  “So?”

  “So, what do you think would happen to me? To Cap’n? To the others if Kitty Sullivan wasn’t around?”

  “I–”

  “Now I’ve gone and let her down.” Camille’s lip trembled.

  I patted her hand. “Don’t you worry,” I said. “You leave Kitty to me.”

  Chapter 13

  The next day was Sunday. I still hadn’t come to a decision about marrying Morgan yet I couldn’t wait to catch a glimpse of him in his regular spot at the front of the church.

  Except he wasn’t there. Maybe he’d slept in. The thought of him in bed filled my head with naughty thoughts and sent a flush through my entire body.

  “Whatever you’re smiling about, I’m sure it ain’t proper for church,” Kitty hissed from beside me.

  After the service, Kitty was waylaid by James Ellis outside the church and I managed to hurry past, returning to the hotel ahead of her. I rushed up the stairs and knocked on Morgan’s door. There was no answer. Putting my ear to the door, I tried to listen but no sounds came from within. Finally I gave up and returned to my own room, my heart beating erratically as I wondered where Morgan could possibly be.

  Just then a knock sounded at my door and I pulled it open with excitement only to find Kitty standing there. Her face was red and blotchy and there was a dead quality to her normally sparkling eyes. “You’ll keep to your room every evening from now on.”

  What had Camille told her? “You don’t need my help?”

  “No. I need you to save your voice and other things for Friday.”

  “Friday? What’s happening Friday?”

  “Mr. Ellis is throwing a special fundraiser to help rebuild the town. You’re going to perform as part of that fundraiser.” Kitty looked at her hands. “Then afterwards you will entertain him here, as your new patron.”

  “No!”

  “Terms have already been agreed upon. Half has been put down against your debts and half will come after Friday.”

  “Kitty, you can’t do this. Talk to Morgan Hawes. He’ll pay my debts.”

  She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “It don’t matter, Dearie. It’ll take more than a mere payment to stop Mr. Ellis.”

  In a flash my decision was made. “You misunderstand. Morgan doesn’t want to be my patron, he’s asked me to marry him.”

  Kitty’s eyes lit up. “Marry!” She hugged me tight jumping up and down. “I knew that’s how this would go, didn’t I tell you? I knew it!”

  *****

  The only problem was, Morgan never returned. Rumors abounded. Morgan Hawes hadn’t shown up for work at the bank. There was no record of him purchasing a train ticket or registering at another hotel. The man had simply disappeared.

  I was devastated. By Thursday, a forlorn Kitty returned to my room and insisted that I remain there until Friday. Camille would bring up my meals and empty the chamber pot, but seeing as Mr. Hawes had not actually made good his proposal, Mr. Ellis had demanded that his patronage be accepted.

  I couldn’t believe it. Where had Morgan gone? Why had he left? What had I done? I spent Thursday and Friday staring out the window, not really seeing what was outside but seeing my life as it could have been had Morgan and I married. It would have been a good life, a decent life. We would have built a home together, had children together. It would be the normal life I had yearned for, surrounded by people I loved.

  It was Friday afternoon, as I stood there at my window, when I thought I caught a glimpse of him on the street below. I searched the crowd moving along the boardwalk, however, Morgan was nowhere to be found. The only person I recognized was John Black Plume, who seemed to sense my gaze because he turned slowly around and stared right up at my window. Whether he really nodded his head at me or whether it was my imagination, I couldn’t tell, but it felt like a silent signal for me, a signal that I had to stop pining and start planning.

  By the time Camille arrived to help me dress for the performance, I was as ready as I could be.

  Camille lingered over my hair, her sniffles becoming more and more regular. “I’m moving back to my old room,” she whispered.

  “Yes, I know.”

  I covered her hand where it rested on my shoulder, strangely aware that Camille was more in need of consoling than me. “Don’t cry. You’ll end up making me cry and then we’ll both be blubbering messes.”

  Laughing through her tears, Camille wiped her eyes on her apron and then pinned a few more locks of hair. After clearing her throat, she said, “Sometimes when I have to do things I really don’t want to do, I close my eyes and think of the best day I ever had. It was a Sunday school picnic back in Virginia. It’s always helped me. Maybe you have a special day like that too.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I do,” I said, thinking of the night I’d spent with Morgan. “Thanks, Camille.”

  A tiny sob escaped her and she flung herself into my arms so hard I thought she’d knock us both over. “You’ve been more like a sister to me than my own blood.”

  I patted her back and made soft soothing sounds. “I’ve never had a sister, but if I did, I’d want her to be exactly like you.”


  A knock on the door only had her clutching onto me tighter.

  “Camille, I need a favor,” I whispered.

  “Anything, Jo-Jo. Whatever you need.”

  I whispered in her ear and Camille pulled back, staring at me with wide eyes. Then she nodded her head and I exhaled in relief.

  “While everyone is at the performance, leave it in a sack out behind the Opera House. Do you think you can manage that?”

  The knock sounded again. “Jo-Jo?” Kitty called from outside. “Mr. Ellis is waiting to escort you to the hall.”

  Camille glanced at the door and then nodded quickly, her lips quivering as she tried to smile. I hugged her once more and then with chin held high – as Kitty had taught me – I opened the door.

  Kitty stared at me with glittering eyes. “You look like a vision in that dress.” There was a sad sort of pride in her voice. I stepped past her, but she grabbed my hand to hold me back. “Wait.” Out of her pocket she took a fine gold necklace and clasped it around my neck. It was my mother’s cross. “Please understand, I had no choice.”

  My cold stare probably told her I didn’t believe her.

  “Mr. Ellis showed me the letter. All he has to do is post it and I lose everything.”

  “What letter.”

  “To Mr. Sullivan’s nephew in San Francisco. He’s the rightful heir and if he learns that Mr. Sullivan is gone…” She didn’t finish. Fishing a hanky out of her sleeve she dabbed at her leaking eyes and said, “Hold onto whatever Ellis gives you. Keep it safe. Before you know it, you’ll have enough to make your own way.”

  Despite what Kitty had done, I couldn’t be angry with her. Camille was right, Kitty was only doing the best she could and it was time I did the same.

  “Thank you for the advice,” I said as I went to meet the man who had purchased me.