by Nathalie Dae
But what if Emmett spoke to me that way?
He pulled his mouth away from hers and kissed down her throat once more. Emmett struck her again then kneaded the flesh, his hot touch sending jolts of lust to her core. Her juices seeped out and her nub throbbed with the need to be stroked.
“Speak to me like I’m a whore,” she said on a gasp.
He slapped her again, three times in quick succession and ground out, “I need your cunt, wench. I paid good money to fuck it, so open your legs.”
Her desire rose. “You didn’t pay me enough for that, sir. Why, your coin has only paid for what you’re doing now.”
He struck her thigh again, the burn so sharp she sucked in a breath then cried out.
“How much do you want, you damned whore?” Slap! “How much will it cost me to sink my cock inside you?” Slap! “How much do you charge a man to sample your delights?” He pulled down her bodice and freed one breast. Lowering his head, he scooped her nipple into his mouth.
“That…oh! That costs extra too, sir.” She panted, breaths coming fast and harsh, groaning at the sensations spreading through her.
He let her nipple go and spoke between licks of the taut peak. “You should give…your gentlemen…a menu. I would pay for…everything on…the list.”
“Then you would be sorely out-of-pocket.” Amelia wound her fingers through his hair. “For I am an expense you can ill-afford.”
Emmett stilled any more words she may have spoken, covering her mouth, dipping his tongue between her lips. She ached for him, needing nothing more than the game to be over yet at the same time wanting to prolong it.
He dragged his mouth back to her breast, sucked her nipple hard then said, “I would make myself a poor man if it meant sampling you every night.” He rubbed her thigh. “I would work just to give you my wage.”
“And I would have no need of other men,” she breathed, her desire spiraling, snaking her hands between them to undo his breeches and tug them down.
Emmett rose up on his hands and she sensed him looking down at her. “Fuck, wench, the thought of you with other men…”
With his words he had slipped out of the game. “But that’s my profession, sir. Surely you realize other men touch me. Other men run their hands over my body and slide their fingers inside my cunt. Their cocks inside my cunt.” A blush heated her cheeks. She had said the words she’d always longed to say and God, it felt so liberating. Perhaps the darkness helped, gave her the courage to speak her thoughts like this. Oh, she’d said things before, but not those words. Not something so…daring. At his intake of breath she pushed on. “They lick me, lick my slit and make my cream spill. They tell me they love me, that they want to have me as their mistress to suck their cocks.”
“Then I will tell them you will service them no more. You’re my whore. My woman.”
Had she gone too far?
He groaned as she guided his cock to her wet slit. “Providing you can afford me, I’ll be only yours.” Desire for him overtook her. To be his again, to have him love her and bring her to the screaming point. She palmed his ass and pushed him into her, his hardness filling her sheath and stealing her breath. His quick rhythm and labored breaths excited her and she flung her hands above her head, ready to relinquish control. Emmett clasped her wrists in one hand and leaned on his other, thrusting into her with short, sharp jabs.
“Mine. You’re mine.” He thrust harder. “No other man will touch you.”
At his mercy and loving it, Amelia lifted her ass so his movements abraded her nub. Her orgasm uncoiled. Pleasure from the friction spread tingling sensations to her core. Emmett’s grunts thrilled her and she panted, releasing a strangled groan of her own.
“Ah fuck! I’m close, wench,” he said, his voice hoarse.
He quickened his rhythm and Amelia chased the waves of pleasure, her sole aim to reach the peak and drown in satisfaction. Sweat dripped down her temples and she gripped him with her legs, the heels of her feet pushing him closer.
Wanton, she said, “Fuck me. Fuck your whore harder.”
Emmett picked up his pace, grinding into her, his movements heaven on her bud. She strove to reach her peak, gasping out, “Let my hands go.” He did and she tugged up the back of his shirt, roving her hands up his back. Digging her nails into him, she raked them down his skin, knowing he loved it.
“That’s it, whore. Do it harder. I’ll pay whatever you ask.”
She trailed her hands back to his shoulders, digging her nails in again, dragging them over his spine. He grunted then cried out. She smelled the hay, heard the sound of it crackling as her body writhed against it. When they made love here it was so frantic that she always came hard and fast. The knowledge that the men in the saloon guessed why she had left the bar gave her pleasure a sharper edge. And this game, this deliciously naughty game had been worth every second. Her orgasm peaked and she bit her bottom lip to keep from making too much noise. Her lover’s body juddered and his seed spurted. Hot and lusciously wet, it seeped from her, its scent wafting between them. God, how she loved that smell, that beautiful odor that screamed of lust and love and them together.
Spent, Emmett slowed then lowered his chest to hers, his kiss filled with love, adoration. Tears pricked her eyes as he moved his hands beneath her back and held her tightly, trailing his mouth from her lips to her jaw to her ear.
“I love you, wench,” he whispered. Then, “You will wait for me, won’t you?”
A lump expanding in her throat, she nodded, her temple brushing his. Their game had unsettled him. “Yes. God, yes, I’ll wait for you.”
Emmett rolled onto his back, taking her with him, his cock still inside her. “Where the hell did those words come from?”
“I don’t know. I… Didn’t you like them?”
“I loved them, but it made me realize how easily another man could mistake you for a whore and take you away from me.”
“Never,” she said.
“We have so much to look forward to. Our future… It’s so bright. I can’t be without you, Amelia.”
“Two more voyages, that’s all. Just two more. We’ll get through this, and then we can live the life we’ve always wanted. A home together. Children. Growing old side by side.” She smiled at the images her words created, the glow of their lovemaking surrounding them as though only they existed in the world. She sighed with contentment but would soon need to douche as best she could.
She took a moment to rest with him, to compose herself before going back to the saloon. That she had to return to work irked her when all she wanted to do was spend time in his company. He clutched her to him and she snuggled closer, enjoying their time in the darkness. Would she be able to utter those words again by candlelight? How would it feel to see his face, his expressions as she spoke words she’d only ever thought?
A clonk sounded below and several horses voiced their distress. Emmett’s body stiffened beneath her and she sat up quietly, breath held. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d been caught here, nor would it be the first time Sara had come to warn Amelia the saloon owner had dropped by. Faint light mellowed the darkness and she stared down, wide-eyed, at Emmett, who raised a finger to his lips and eased her off him, quickly doing up his breeches. Kneeling beside him, Amelia adjusted her skirt, heart thudding. Emmett carefully moved himself into a crouch, hands between his legs, and Amelia maneuvered to face the loft ladder.
A shuffle of hay from below reached them. The horses? Whoever had entered the stables? Her lungs burned from holding her breath. Pulse thrumming in her neck, Amelia released air slowly through her mouth then inhaled. Flames and shadows pranced on the rafters and the uppermost half of the wall opposite. She glanced at Emmett, who indicated with his eyes that she should move behind him. Jaw clenched, she tried to shift silently, but hay crackled beneath her knees.
“I know you’re up there, Emmett Dray.”
That voice… The man from the saloon! Oh God! What does he want? How does he
know Emmett?
“It isn’t surprising what a serving wench will tell a man when faced with a frightening occurrence if she doesn’t comply.” He chuckled, dark and menacing.
Amelia’s stomach clenched and she bit down on her knuckles to stop herself crying out. Emmett placed his finger to his lips again and stood, his outstretched palm conveying his desire that she remain where she was. Fear pervaded her body, leaving her legs and arms weak, her head light.
“What do you want, Bates?” Emmett peered over the loft rails.
“You know what I want, Dray. You’ve known what I’ve wanted ever since you stole what’s mine.”
Bates’ voice held a warning and Emmett tensed, placing his hands on the rail and gripping tightly.
Dread pooled in Amelia’s gut. Emmett stole something? She inched forward on her hands and knees and peeked through the rails. The man stared up at Emmett, a torch held aloft, the flames dancing, lighting one half of his face orange, the other in semi-shadow. He sneered, those ugly, fleshy lips of his wide and wet. He planted his other hand on his hip, the overhang of his protruding belly hiding his fingers.
“I see you have your wench with you. The wench who refused to serve me ale.” His eyes narrowed at Amelia. “It would be of benefit to you to give me what I want, Dray. I’d wager that young bitch there would feel good on my cock.”
She sensed Emmett’s anger but didn’t look at him, willing herself not to show that disgusting man her fear.
“Leave my woman alone,” Emmett said. “She has nothing to do with this. Besides, I didn’t steal anything. I bought it.”
Bates laughed and lowered the torch, the flames perilously close to the hay-strewn floor. “Bought it? No, you stole it. How else would it be in your possession? It was safe on my ship…until you came aboard.”
Emmett huffed out a derisive breath. “I left your ship that night empty-handed and bought the sculpture the next day.”
Bates widened his eyes. “Ha! And I’m meant to believe it wasn’t planned? You admired that sculpture. Said it reminded you of your bitch there.” He nodded in Amelia’s direction. “I’ll wager you got someone else to steal it for you.” He swung the torch beside him in wide arcs. “However you got it, I want it back.”
“And if I don’t return it?” Emmett sidestepped to the ladder, crooking his finger for Amelia to follow.
“I’ll drop this torch and leave you to burn,” Bates rasped.
Amelia stood and rushed to Emmett’s side, bile surging up her windpipe. The thought of Bates pawing her rippled through her mind. Please, God, no… Terror enveloped her and she gripped her lover’s hand, prepared to help fend off this obnoxious man—or die with Emmett.
“Then you still won’t have your sculpture,” Emmett said. “With us dead, you’ll have no idea where it is.”
“I’ll find it. People’s tongues loosen at the prospect of money in their palms.” Bates moved to the door and opened it. “Last chance, Dray.” He glared up at them, lips a fat, straight line, eyes slits, the light from the torch flame glinting off his irises.
Emmett stared at Amelia.
“Give it back, Emmett,” she whispered, her throat swelling with fear.
A great whoosh sounded and the stable walls came into stark relief. Amelia looked down and gasped. Bates had tossed the torch to the center of the stable and the flames devoured the hay, streaking toward the bales in the far corner. The horses shrieked, their hooves smacking the ground.
“Too late,” Bates called and closed the door.
“Get down the ladder!” Emmett shouted. “Quickly! You have time before the flames come this way.”
Amelia backed down the ladder, feet stumbling on every rung, her dress catching beneath her shoes. She slipped and braced herself for a hard fall, landing on her side. Pain bloomed in her hip and she struggled upright, the heat of the flames on her back warning her they had little time to escape. Emmett came down the ladder, jumped from halfway up and grabbed Amelia’s elbow. He steered her to the door and yanked the handle. The door wouldn’t budge. Frantic, Amelia glanced behind her.
Flames crept toward them. Smoke billowed upward, hitting the rafters and forming dense black clouds. The air thickened and goose flesh born of trepidation sprang up on her arms. She covered her nose and mouth with her skirt and coughed, backing against the wall beside the door. Emmett tugged harder and in desperation kicked the slatted wood. One piece gave way and fresh air invited the smoke outside. It gusted at them, acrid, stinging Amelia’s eyes. She whimpered, panic-stricken that they wouldn’t be able to escape in time. He kicked the slats again, harder. His booted foot disappeared through a new hole and stuck in the opening as he tried to pull it back through.
Please let us get out of here. Please…
Desperate now, Amelia turned her back to the encroaching flames and kicked at the door herself, freeing Emmett’s foot. Their combined efforts broke two more slats, creating a hole big enough to crawl through.
“You first,” Emmett said, pushing her down by her shoulders and glancing at the approaching flames.
She glanced back herself, alarmed at how far the fire had traveled in such a short time. With a brief, soul-searching look into his eyes, she clambered through the opening, her knees jarring on the cobblestoned yard. She flipped over and scooted backward on her ass to give Emmett room. His head and shoulders poked through the hole, the remaining slats tight against his upper arms. Behind him the flames grew higher, the snap and crackle ominous.
“Oh God. Hurry, Emmett!”
He stared at her as he struggled to squeeze through, the light going out of his eyes upon the realization he was stuck. Her eyes widened and she scrabbled toward him. Fisting his shirt, she yanked him, her breaths coming hard and sharp. Emmett loosed a primordial scream, his neck veins bulging, his teeth gritted. He lunged forward, his body shoving Amelia backward. Her head struck the cobblestones. Pain jabbed her skull, but she lifted her head to eye the hole in the door. Flames streaked closer, the smoke gusting out much thicker now, and the terrible screams of horses pained her ears.
“Those animals! Those poor animals!” she sobbed.
Emmett jumped up and made for the saloon’s back door. “Amelia, hurry!”
“But the horses!” She clambered to her feet. “We can’t—”
“People are more important!” he shouted as he opened the door. “We have to warn them before it spreads!”
A bark of laughter gusted behind her and Amelia spun to face Bates who stood beside an open wooden gate at the rear of the yard, his face an eerie red, lit by yet another torch held up beside him.
“You’ll let them burn,” he said, eyes narrowed.
“I won’t!” Emmett grasped the door handle and motioned with his head for Amelia to join him.
“Oh, you will,” Bates said.
Standing in the middle of the yard, Amelia looked from Emmett to Bates and back to Emmett. Her lover’s eyes widened and his mouth opened so gradually it seemed time had slowed. His hand came up and he stepped toward her, his movements languid. A drawn out “No!” left him and Amelia turned to Bates, her action unhurried. His face was inches from hers, his grin wide, lips wet and slack. She gasped as his hand rose and grabbed her hair before he dragged her through the gateway, where blackness swallowed her whole.
Chapter Three
Amelia’s eyes wouldn’t open. She struggled to raise the lids, but they were too heavy. The back of her head ached with an insistent throb and she winced. Throat and mouth dry, she ran her tongue over her teeth. Mind groggy, she fought to comprehend why her head hurt, why she had been asleep.
Memories crashed in—the hayloft, Emmett, Bates— Her eyes shot open without trouble then. Darkness greeted her and she sat up with a gasp, striking the top of her head on something hard. She cried out and lifted her hands, searching above, fingertips brushing what felt like wood.
Where am I?
The memory of Bates gripping her hair thundered through her
head. Lowering her arms, she patted beneath her—more wood—and then to the sides. Again, more wood. She was in a box of some kind. Heart beating too fast, she thumped overhead, but the wood remained solid.
“Help!” she said, her voice cracking, her call pitifully inadequate. “Help!”
“Shut your trap!” came a male voice. “Just you sit nice and quiet in there.”
Amelia held her breath. Where was Emmett? And who was that man?
“Where am I?” she asked, praying for an answer.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. What did I just say?”
A shrieking scrape sounded. A chair being moved? A sigh gusted, so loud, and footsteps grew in volume before stopping. She heard heavy breathing, the jangle of keys and a low, guttural laugh. Amelia shivered and hugged herself.
“You gonna answer me, wench?”
She jumped at the nearness of the voice and the word “wench” brought a lump to her throat. Emmett. Please come and find me. “I… You told me to shut my trap.”
“I did.” Silence, then, “And you didn’t.” A long pause. “Disobeying me isn’t wise.”
Oh God, please, if you can hear me… Don’t let him have hurt Emmett.
The keys jangled again and a loud creak preceded the lid of her prison being lifted. Soft light hit her eyes and she blinked to become accustomed to the change. Raising her head, she gazed out at a wood-paneled room, the slats a rich mahogany. A door stood opposite and beside that a tall case clock ticked. Paintings of nude women graced the walls and a green wing chair sat in the right-hand corner next to a round occasional table, a crystal decanter and glass on top of it.
A throat cleared and she hiked in a breath, staring at her shoeless feet. A man stepped from behind her. She looked up. An ugly scar marred his face from eye to jaw, its surface red, knobby and rough. Amelia whipped her hand to her mouth to stifle her alarm, her cheeks heating. His blond hair, slicked back with oil, bore comb tracks and showcased his prominent brow. Piercing blue eyes glared at her, his gaze hard. He crossed his arms over his wide chest and planted his legs apart.