His Beautiful Wench (3 page)

Read His Beautiful Wench Online

Authors: Nathalie Dae

Tags: #Erotica

BOOK: His Beautiful Wench
5.85Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Amelia snatched in a breath and dug her nails into him. His words… God they were shocking, but she loved it when he spoke to her this way. He pinched her nipple in rhythm with her pulse and she embraced his lower back, pressing his rigidity to her folds. His eyes conveyed so much—so many words and emotions.

“Being with you like this,” he whispered, “is all I want. All I’ll ever want.”

Emotions betraying her, a tear escaped, trailing a hot path to her temple and disappearing into her hair. Emmett released her nipple, leaned down and kissed the now-cold tear track, his soft lips peppering the shell of her ear.

“I missed you,” Amelia murmured, her hands cupping his ass. “I wish—”

“As do I, my wench,” he whispered, his breath warming her ear.

Emmett reared up and removed his shirt, tossing it to the floor. A wave of longing encompassed her and she helped remove his breeches. He lay beside her propped up on one elbow and smoothed his free hand up and down her belly. She caressed the small of his back, her other hand fondling her exposed nipple to tease him, make him want her more. She bent her legs and let the knee farthest from him flop to the bed.

“I’m waiting,” she whispered. “Look at me.” She glanced down at her thatch. “Look at what waits for you.”

Her bold words made Emmett suck in a sharp breath. She smiled, enjoying the way he pressed closer to her side, how his hand stroked her belly faster.

Her gaze locked with his and her emotions spiraled. She wanted to tease him like he had teased her, yet at the same time she couldn’t wait for his cock to fill her. The conflicting feelings brought a stronger surge of longing and she gave in to them, allowing her body to rule her mind.

“I want you to take me. Want to feel you inside me. Please, just…”

He smiled—infuriating!—and trailed his fingertips down to the inside of one leg beside her knee. He swirled a circular pattern there, her skin oversensitive, her desire spiking again. Her hips bucked involuntarily.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Amelia nodded. “Please…don’t tease me.”

His eyes darkened and he moaned, swiftly ripping the thin side strips of her underwear and moving on top of her. His cock speared her cunt and she cried out, hands clutching his buttocks.

Wrapping her legs around his, she lifted her hips. “I want you to fuck me hard and fast. Take me quickly. Please. No more teasing. I’ve waited too long.”

She stared at his face, saw the indecision there as to whether he would comply with her wishes or draw out the torment. Hands flat on the mattress beneath her pillow, Emmett raised his chest and looked down at her, his thrusts sharp. She loosed a short, victorious scream. Her hands spanned his ass cheeks and she pushed him closer, his pelvis grinding against her throbbing nub.

He kissed her with a hunger that matched her own, then lifted his head, his gaze searching for hers. The intensity of his stare stirred her desire and the spiral of a second orgasm gripped her core. He sucked on her nipple, pulling it toward him, flashing his tongue across it. A spark of bliss shot from there to her cunt, heightening her steadily growing pleasure. She released a whoosh of groan-laden air and gasped as his cock swelled further.

“God… Emmett… I’m…”

Her channel clenched around him and the coiling lust burst through her. She dug her nails into his ass and keened, heady sensations overwhelming her. Tears spilled, as did his seed, the wet heat of it sending her orgasm to a higher level. She loved the feel of him coming, how his cock pulsated and swelled inside her. Her head went giddy and she hiked in a breath that snagged in her throat.

“Christ, I love you, wench.”

A second spurt of cum soaked her sheath. His throbbing cock glided with ease, their juices mixing. The scent of sex wafted over her and she smoothed her hands over his buttocks, wanting to touch all of him at once. He leaned down and kissed her tears away. His movements slowed and her orgasm receded, leaving her nub sensitive, the pulse of it bordering on pain. With heavy, shaking limbs, Amelia concentrated on regulating her breathing. Emmett kissed her jawline, her chin and finally her lips. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth to his, their kiss languid and sweet.

A swell of sentiment rushed over her and a sob rose from deep inside. She tried to hold it back, but it escaped. He took his mouth from hers and regarded her.

“You are my lady,” he said, his voice unsteady. “My wonderful lady.”

He pulled out and settled beside her, holding his arm aloft for her to snuggle against his chest. She rested her arm over his stomach, the dress a barrier between them, but she had no energy to remove it.

“Where did you go this time?” she asked, his heartbeat a comfort beneath her ear.

“We sailed to an island two days away from the coast. I bought a sculpture while ashore. One that reminded me of you. It is in the shape of a nude female with long flowing locks. I shall bring it here for safekeeping, for I’ll be gone again by the week’s end.”

Amelia’s stomach lurched and she held him tighter.

Only four days with each other? My God, I don’t know if I can stand these separations forever, yet what is there in my life without Emmett? I’d rather endure the time apart than never see him at all
.

“Can you not keep it at your rooms? I will worry with it here. So many men pass through this place. Any one of them could wander up here while I’m working at the saloon and take it. Is it valuable?”

Emmett stroked her cheek and kissed the top of her head. “It cost a fair amount, yes, but surely you keep your door locked?”

She blushed and thought of the women, women who had become her friends, despite them being free with their favors. Women who took men down into the basement below the linens room if they were too loud and entertained them there. Women who sometimes used her room when too many customers happened by.

“I don’t lock it, no.”

“Then you should. I don’t like the thought of you vulnerable up here. The thought of people coming into your private space when you aren’t around.” He sighed and the exhalation ruffled her hair. “I only have two voyages left and I will have made enough money to keep us for many years to come. We can marry. We should have married long ago. It worries me that people look at you as though you are loose.”

Amelia smiled and rubbed his waist with her thumb. “I wanted a marriage day to remember and enough funds so we can live comfortably. A celebration like that costs money. Besides, I don’t care
what
they think. When we have what we want, it will make all the suffering worth it. I have saved some money also, though it won’t be as much as yours.”

His laugh rumbled in his chest. “And I suspect you’ll tell me you have your money in this room. With the door unlocked.”

Her face heated further and she glanced at her wooden chest sitting beneath one of the windows.

“Ah, my trusting Amelia, who has yet to encounter a rogue. What will I do with you, hmm?”

“It’s safe in my chest. I have a key…”

Emmett laughed louder. “And what is to stop someone taking the chest?”

She gasped and looked up at him. “No one around here would do such a thing! Turner’s Point is such a small place.”

He touched his forehead to hers. “And what of the traveling men? The ones who visit this cottage? Not everyone is as good as those who dwell in Turner’s Point, wench.”

“I suppose.”

“You are at the saloon tonight?” he asked.

“I am, but I shall take the next few evenings off now that you are home.”

“What time will you be there?”

“I start at eight.”

“Then I will join you there and afterward…”

She giggled, flinging her leg over his, and he tousled her hair.

They lay silent then, Amelia’s eyes drooping, her soul content now that her beloved had come home. Emmett’s breathing slowed and he closed his eyes. A tic flickered beside his mouth and a pang of regret singed her that some of the time they spent together was wasted with sleep.

But he must be so tired. God, I love you, Emmett Dray. You rest now. Sleep well.

She switched her thoughts to this evening—another few hours where she’d have to share her time between Emmett and the customers. If only she had spotted his ship on the horizon. She shifted slightly and semen dribbled from her. Eyes widening, she left the bed and walked to a wooden sideboard that stood against the wall opposite the stairs. She hadn’t anticipated his arrival, had been so absorbed in him that they hadn’t used a sheath. Quietly, she poured water from a china jug into a matching bowl and added some lavender essence. Opening a drawer, she retrieved a syringe. She douched—and prayed it would be enough.

Her toilette complete, she returned to the bed and nestled beside Emmett, who snored softly. The sound brought a smile to her lips and she matched her breathing to his, slumber coming to claim her with soft, loving arms. For the first time in a long while, she would sleep without tossing and turning. Safe in Emmett’s arms.

Chapter Two

 

Amelia stirred. Eyes still closed, she smiled and reached for Emmett. Her hand met with air. She frowned and rolled onto her back. A hard surface jarred her shoulder blades and she opened her eyes. Cobwebbed rafters met her gaze, the ceiling cloaked in semi-darkness. Her frown deepened. The last vestiges of sleep sped away, replaced by aggressive conscious thought. She turned her head to look at the windows. Daylight had faded, the remnants of the afternoon swallowed up by the oncoming night. Dirt streaked the panes and she blushed upon remembering the dream. How vivid it was. How…real.

She sat up. One breast hung free of her bodice. A chill in the air and the memory of Emmett’s fingers perked her nipple and her face heated further. Had she touched herself while she slept? Amelia glanced down. The skirt had bunched at her waist, leaving her folds exposed.

Where the hell are my panties?

She scrambled to her feet, shoving the skirt down. The scent of lavender wafted around her.
But…but I didn’t… It’s not possible. I just slept, that’s all
. Her heart hammered and her pulse thrummed as she gazed around in the gloom for her underwear. A tiny black heap lay on the bare floorboards and she stooped to pick up her thong.

The waistband had been snapped.

Oh God. I must have ripped this off when

Embarrassment filtered through her. She wrenched the dress over her head and threw it in the wooden chest. Grabbing her jeans and shirt, she thudded down the stairs and stood in her bedroom doorway. Annoyance seeped into the edges of her thoughts, ready to infiltrate and take over as she eyed her new bed leaning against the back wall, still to be set up. Jaw clamped, she stomped over and unzipped a suitcase beneath the window. In the lid pouch she found a fresh thong and slipped it on, then dressed again in her jeans and shirt, mad that her breast still poked out of one bra cup.

“I know I need sex but…”

She sighed. She’d either have to get a move on and assemble her bed or sleep on only the mattress for tonight. The list of things she should have been doing while she slept tromped through her mind and, irked that she was way behind on her unpacking, she padded downstairs. The state of her living room shrieked at her and a wave of frustration had her sitting on the sofa, staring at the mess. Tears stung her eyes. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t claim fatigue…

Emmett’s face filled her mind. God, it had all seemed so
real
. When had she fallen asleep? She put her face in her hands and tried to remember her last conscious thought before she must have drifted off.

I put the dress on. I went to the window and
lifted the skirt

Heat infused her face again and she groaned, the sound reminiscent of her response to him as he…

“Stop it! Stop thinking about it!”

She stood abruptly and walked to the kitchen, flicking on the light. Thankfully the kettle sat on the work surface from when she’d made the movers their coffee. Was it really only this morning? A glance out the window told her night had well and truly settled in. Her stomach grumbled. Was it past dinnertime? She spun in a circle, trying to recall where she’d left her purse, and spied it hanging on the door handle. Snatching it up, she dug inside for her cell, switched it on and eyed the screen. The time glowed—nine p.m.—along with the information she’d missed two calls and three text messages.

“Who the hell would be trying to get hold of me apart from Matilda and piano clients, I don’t know. I have no one.”

The sudden realization that she really was alone now slammed into her and a ball of emotion lodged in her chest.
My parents are dead and I have no brothers or sisters.
She laughed wryly, tears spilling. Angry at herself, she jabbed at the kettle switch and took a mug from the dish drain. She spooned instant coffee and sugar in, her movement jerky, her mind whirling with confusing thoughts of Emmett.

Stop thinking of him like he’s real. He isn’t, so deal with it.

The kettle clicked off. Steam rose from the spout and hit the window, a large patch of condensation forming. She stared at it and watched a trail of water from the lower edge slink down the glass. More trails followed and reminded her of tears. Before she allowed herself the luxury of crying, she shifted her attention back to her task, idly stirring her coffee and frowning at a spillage of sugar on the worktop. The word ATTIC had been scrawled in it. She gasped harshly and stepped back, squealing, hand to her mouth. Her heart rate sped up, the thuds hard and dull against her ribs, the sound of her pulse loud on her eardrums. Backing to the opposite side of the room, she collided with a small pine table and a chair toppled to the floor, its leg digging into hers. Goose bumps sprang up on her arms, the hairs there rising, brushing her shirtsleeves. She hugged herself, mind trying to process how the hell the word had appeared.

Other books

Life After Genius by M. Ann Jacoby
Sea Mistress by Iris Gower
Midnight Shadows by Lisa Marie Rice
Hostage by Cheryl Headford
Love or Fate by Clea Hantman
The Butterfly by James M. Cain
The Stallion by Georgina Brown
Hurt Me by Glenna Marie