by Nathalie Dae
“You can hide it with your hands, Emmett, but you can’t hide it in your eyes.” She smiled then licked her lips, continuing to circle her nipple.
I want him inside me now, but this game is so…naughty. Matilda could return. We could get caught.
Those thoughts should have made her blush and climb off the table but they didn’t. She remained in place, fondling her breast, her chest tight as her heart ticked quickly and her pulse throbbed. Being exposed like this, open to his perusal, gave her a sense of freedom. She shook her head at how naughty she became when alone with Emmett, and her hair shifted across her breasts, tickling her skin.
Emmett drew his hands to his waistband. “Ah, but who says I want to hide it?” He undid his breeches and his cock sprang free. Grasping it in a firm hand, he began to massage his length, his gaze locked on hers.
Damn him!
Face hot and emotions running high, Amelia was jealous she wasn’t handling his cock. Did he feel the same about what she was doing to herself? Wishing his fingers played with her nipple? Wishing he could grip her by the waist, pull her to the edge of the table and sink his cock deep inside her wet channel? Take her hard and fast, the table shunting across the floor with every jab he made?
We’ll soon see.
Smiling wickedly, she moved her hand slowly toward her thatch, dipping her finger inside her navel along the way. She imagined it was his hand but couldn’t fool herself for long. Her smooth skin didn’t feel the same. She missed his calloused palm then, the urge to have that roughness skating across her body a force she couldn’t deny. He kept a steady pace on his length, long and drawn-out movements that spoke to her of his intent to be in control.
I’ll make him lose it.
She inched her hand closer to her cunt, brushing her fingers over the fine hairs there. The feel of them was so deliciously naughty, and she wondered if other women were as wanton as she. Did every man have a woman who wanted sex as much as she craved it?
Emmett’s speed increased, only a bit, but the slight change in tempo curved her lips. Lowering her hand a little more, she dipped two fingers between her folds and spread them, showing him what he could touch if only he’d give in and do so. His breath hitched and he covered it up by clearing his throat. Amelia smiled again, rubbing her fingers up and down her cleft, her sole intent to see his hand moving faster, proving she had won their battle of wills. Despite Amelia trying not to get too excited, lust warmed her. She focused on keeping her breathing even, not wanting to alert him to her growing desire.
“You want to touch me like this, don’t you?” she asked. “You want to feel my wet slit, slide your tongue over it, taste me…”
His eyes grew hooded and his fingers tightened on his cock. “And you want to touch me. You’d love this inside you. Filling you up. Pumping in and out until your cream seeps. Wench, you want me as much as I want you.” He gave her his lazy smile and pulled down hard and slow, positioning his erection toward her as though daring her to get off the table and take it in her mouth.
His words heightened her desire and she realized she had begun rubbing herself harder, faster. Her juices spilled and she coated her fingers, spreading her liquid throughout her cleft. Hoping to push him to a point where he would have to give in and admit defeat, she took her fingers from her slit and raised them to her mouth. She parted her lips and sucked her fingers inside, the taste of her cream coating her tongue. Emmett jerked himself faster, his free hand sliding down to fondle his sac.
“Fuck, wench!” he whispered, color staining his cheeks. “When you do that I… Tell me how it tastes.”
She pulled her fingers from her mouth and returned them to her folds. “Tangy.” She licked her lips. “Musky.”
“And how does that feel?” He nodded at the hand at her slit. “Tell me how good it is.” He pumped his cock quickly for a moment then stopped, squeezing the tip between finger and thumb.
He’s gone too far…but I’ll push him farther.
“It feels beautiful. Like silk, only so wet, so soft with my cream. Can’t you smell me, Emmett?”
“Fuck,” he whispered, clenching his teeth. He began fondling himself again, this time much slower. “I want you.”
“I know.”
She shifted across the table and stood with her back to him. Placing her palms on the table, she jutted out her ass. She spread her legs and closed her eyes, the sound of breath hissing between his teeth increasing her need. Movement sounded. He smoothed his hands up her back then down to her waist. Willing him to enter her, she inhaled deeply, waiting.
He pressed himself to her, naked cock resting against her ass. She went up on tiptoes, maneuvering so his tip butted her opening, cursing herself for showing him she needed him inside her. A low moan left her and her channel clenched in anticipation. Her juices seeped out and she longed for the length of him to penetrate her, thrusting hard and fast.
“Please…” she whispered, her desire rising several notches.
Emmett entered her quickly and her bud throbbed in ecstasy. He shunted back and forth and she tightened her sheath around him. His hands left her waist to cup her breasts and he teased them with light touches. Nipples erect, she placed one hand on the table and snaked the other between her legs, stroking her nub, fingertips grazing his wet cock each time he pulled out. Pleasure burned, uncoiling, spreading with intense quickness.
“Faster,” she breathed and opened her eyes to look down.
The sight of Emmett’s hands and her rubbing fingers heightened her desire and she cried out as the oncoming release slammed into her then peaked. A powerful rush of pleasure ripped through her and she pushed back onto his cock, wanting more of him inside. His chest covered her back and he plunged harder. A stuttered groan filled her ears and she was too far gone to know whether she or Emmett had made it. It came again, most definitely male, and she rubbed harder, rapid strokes taking her toward completion. Emmett loosed a yell, pushed inside and held still. His seed sluiced her sheath then he pumped on, short sharp jerks now, emptying himself inside her.
Sweat coated Amelia’s body and she stilled her hand. Emmett thrust on, milking every last drop from his cock. Her bud throbbed with the aftereffects of her orgasm and she lowered her hand to join the other on the table. His breaths panting out of him, Emmett slowed to a stop and embraced her, crossing his arms over her breasts. Breathless, she hung her head and her lover released her breasts to massage her back and shoulders. His warm, solid touch brought on a smile and she eased away from him, turning to face him. He kissed her, a tender meeting of lips, and she wound her fingers in his hair. Soft moans lodged in her throat as his hands roved her back, coming to rest on her shoulder blades. With reluctance, she pulled her mouth from his, nestling her head in the crook of his neck until her breaths were long and even.
“Would you bathe me?” she asked, the air drying her skin taut.
“I’d do anything for you,” he whispered.
* * * * *
The sun peeked through the glass panes and warmed Amelia’s face. She stared out the window. What time is it? Blue sky with scant clouds met her gaze and she yawned then nestled closer to Emmett, her cheek on his chest. The warmth of his side against her belly brought on a smile and she recalled the night before. His touch had chased away the cruel turn of events, enabling her to forget them for a brief time. She skimmed her hand down his belly and brushed over his hard cock. Her lover stirred and she looked at his face.
“Morning, my beautiful wench.” He smiled and rubbed one eye.
“Morning. Or it may be afternoon.”
A clatter sounded from downstairs and Amelia stiffened. Emmett’s heartbeat picked up pace, the throb of it loud in her ear. The front door slammed and muffled women’s voices filtered to her. Relief left her weak and she blew out a breath to steady her quick-beating pulse.
“It’s only the women returning,” Emmett said, one hand playing with her hair. “Though I did think—”
“Yes.
So did I. Still.” She huffed out another breath. “It wasn’t who we thought, so…” She sat up, the quilt pooling at her belly. “Shall we go for that walk I suggested? Would it be safe?”
“Yes, if we keep our wits about us.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Though I doubt we’ll have any trouble from them now that the sculpture has been taken.” Shaking his head, he went on. “The unfairness has irked me. The fact that I bought it in good faith only to have it stolen isn’t right. And there is something… Some reason why I must have it back.”
A fist of fear clenched in Amelia’s gut. “Surely you’re not thinking of taking it back. Please, just forget about it. Those men, they could come here to find it, and we might not be so lucky next time.”
He sighed. “You’re right, of course.” He sat up and stroked her cheek. “But I wouldn’t be so foolish in keeping it here again.”
Anger brewed inside her and Amelia flung the covers away and stood beside the bed. Hands on naked hips, she said, “If you are willing to put your life—and mine—in danger for a piece of metal, then you’re a fool. I want nothing to do with that sculpture. Please, let us just enjoy your days ashore. Heaven knows the time is ticking by too quickly, most of it tainted by those men and their greed. Tell me, Emmett…” She stared at him—hard. “Are you also a greedy man? I never took you for such. Perhaps I’ve been mistaken all this time.”
His eyes widened briefly and his cheeks flushed. Her words had wounded, as was her intent, and she strutted over to the sideboard, busying herself with her toilette. The cold water cooled her hot cheeks and she washed her folds, praying Emmett’s semen wouldn’t make her with child. Not yet. Not when he still had two voyages left—and they needed to be married before entertaining thoughts of starting a family. But she had failed to douche herself in time last night or after their moments in the hayloft. Oh God…
She whirled to face Emmett and found him pulling on his breeches. “I know it isn’t proper for a woman to ask, but would you marry me, Emmett Dray?”
He looked up, eyes round. His mouth stretched into a wide smile and, clearly thankful her anger had subsided, he rushed over to her, bringing her to his chest, his arms about her back. Cheek against hers, his lips close to her ear, he said, “Of course, wench. On my next return we will make the arrangements for after my final voyage.”
Amelia reared back a little to stare into his eyes. “No. I mean today. Or tomorrow. Before you leave.”
He laughed, the sound rich and throaty. “We may not have time! The pastor may not be happy at performing the ceremony so quickly.”
She smiled. “Oh, he will.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“The pastor has secrets he wouldn’t like announced to his flock.” She jerked her head toward the stairs.
Emmett’s eyes widened again and he choked on a laugh. “What, downstairs? He…?”
Amelia nodded. “He does.”
“My word, the things that go on down there!” He kissed her nose tip and thrust his fingers through her hair. “Would it make you feel better if we were married before I left?”
“Yes. Yes, it would. I wouldn’t feel so bad about you keeping me then. And…” She cast her gaze to the floor, heat burning her cheeks.
“And what?” He rested his finger beneath her chin and lifted her face. “What is it, wench?”
“My toilette. I…we…”
“Ah.” Emmett smiled, his eyes bright. “Then we shall visit the pastor today. Impress upon him the importance of our union.”
A sigh left him, one of contentment she was sure, and he pressed his lips to hers. As their tongues twined, thoughts filled her mind, birthing tendrils of doubt. Did Emmett love her enough to forget the sculpture? Would it be enough for her to ask him to forget it?
It should be. But what if he doesn’t? Does that mean his love for me isn’t as I thought, isn’t as strong as I thought?
A lump expanded in her throat and she broke the kiss, mind awhirl with insistent queries she needed answered. Cursing herself for acting the needy female, she asked, “How much do you love me, Emmett?”
His eyebrows met above his nose and wrinkles marred his forehead. “More than life itself. You know that, wench.”
She took a deep breath. “Then you’ll forget the sculpture?”
His eyes closed briefly and he said, “I can’t. I—”
Amelia stepped away, sour bile stinging the back of her tongue. “Why not? Have events not shown you the trouble that thing has caused? Do you not see how much more trouble could come our way should you choose to pursue finding it again?” Chest heaving with angry breaths, she turned from him and walked to the bed. With stiff movements, she lifted her dress over her head and straightened it on her body. His silence irked her to no end and she snapped, “Don’t you have anything to say?” At his silence, she huffed out a wry laugh. “No?” Whirling to face him, she said, “Then let me tell you something. That I asked for you to forget the sculpture should be enough that you comply with my request—out of love, out of fear for those rogues coming to take my life, your life. That you have admitted you can’t forget it tells me…” Tears fell, and she dashed them away, resentment seeping from her gut to form a tight ball in her chest. “Tells me you do not love me enough.” She swallowed, hurt, and brought her arms together over her breasts, resting her clenched hands beneath her chin. “It tells me you do not love me as I love you.”
Emmett took a step toward her but she halted his progress with one hand held out, palm facing him.
“Don’t do this, Amelia. There are reasons I can’t forget it.”
“What the hell could they be that they are so important—more important than our lives?”
He raised his arm then let it drop back to his side. “I have to find it to keep our lives.” He gazed out the window. “I… The reason I only have two voyages left, the reason why we can live so well once they are over is because… God, Amelia, I had no idea it would come to this. No idea doing such a simple task would lead to such a string of events.”
Emmett’s sigh prompted Amelia to rush to him, turn his face so she could look into his eyes. He stared down at her, sunlight highlighting the planes of his left cheek and the raw gash on his brow. Strong arms surrounded her, crushed her to his chest, and the air seemed to solidify, making it hard for her to breathe. His heart thudded beneath her ear and she clutched his back, digging her nails into his flesh.
“I’m frightened, Emmett. What have you done?” she whispered.
“Christ, wench,” he said, his voice thick. “If I’d have known my tasks would result in this, I—”
“What have you done?” She lifted her head to gaze up at him.
“I…” He pressed her head back to his chest, his fingers playing with her hair. “I was commissioned to purchase jewels for a prominent member of society while on my last voyage. He paid me much coin, and I bought what he sought. I am to deliver the jewels tonight and collect more money to buy more jewels on my next voyage. The process would be repeated on my final sail. I will not be paid the coin for this until the final voyage is completed. Then we will have enough to live in comfort for the rest of our lives. Don’t you see?” he asked, thumbing her cheek. “It would mean we could build our own home and raise our children without fear of being poor.”
Questions fought for prominence in her mind. Was something preventing him still honoring that agreement? Who was the important member of society? And why had this person picked Emmett? Lord, how did he even know of Emmett?
Amelia pulled away and took her lover’s hands in hers. “So take the jewels as was arranged. Continue with your agreement, make the last two voyages, and everything will work out fine. Won’t it?”
Emmett’s face darkened—the wrinkles about his eyes deeper, his mouth a thin straight line—and he squeezed her hands and sighed again. Fear gripped her. He looked out the window once more, at the ocean that hopefully kept their dreadful secret in its depths, the vast expanse
that carried him away from her all too often.
“I wish I could, but I can’t. I don’t have the jewels.”
“But you said you’d bought them. You said—”
“Amelia…” He clenched his jaw, the muscles spasming. “The jewels are inside the sculpture.”
Her head lightened and her knees buckled. Emmett guided her to the bed and helped her sit. She rested her palm against her chest, her heartbeats hard and fast, and stared out the window. From her position she made out a spire and imagined folks getting on with their everyday lives, unaware that such terrible things happened in the place they called home. She envied them their ignorance and wished she could turn back time to when she’d had that luxury.
“We’re damned either way,” she whispered, her throat tight.
Emmett sat beside her and rested his hand on her lower back, his other covering the fist she clenched in her lap. “I would rather face the wrath of Bates’ men than that of the other.”
She swallowed. “Who…who is the other?”
He sniffed. “He is someone from overseas. England. He now lives here.”
Everything from her peripheral vision faded, leaving only a tunnel of sight ahead. She fixed her gaze in the direction of a palatial home situated on the far outskirts of town. Turrets on either end stretched up into the sky, the windows in them black squares of menace. Amelia’s breath hitched.
“Please don’t tell me it’s Lord Graham. Please—”
“I’m sorry, wench, I…”
His voice came from far away and faded into nothing. Her ears buzzed in the silence and images of Lord Graham danced before her. Cruel blue eyes stared at her and a rigid face boasted a precise beard that only edged his jaw and lower chin. A severe, thin mustache appeared as a slash beneath his nose, the black of it so dark against his overly white face. Tight curls laced with oil hung to his shoulders, though the time he had visited the saloon he had pulled it back in a red ribbon at his nape. That a man of his standing visited such a place had puzzled Amelia—until he made his reasons clear.