His Beautiful Wench (6 page)

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he whispered, pulling her by the hand and navigating the familiar path across the stables despite the darkness. “Come, let me love your fears away.”

She held out her hands, felt for the loft ladder and climbed, careful her dress didn’t catch beneath her feet and cause a fall. At the top, she crawled to the far corner, the hay rustling behind her as Emmett followed. She reclined on a bed of hay, the tips digging through her dress and stabbing her scalp, its scent sharp. The horses stomped below, whinnying their displeasure at being disturbed while their owners drank and got merry.

Emmett nestled beside her, his breathing, scent and body heat the only sign he was there. She peered into the pitch, wanting to see him, wanting to drink in his features, his body. Sighing, she reached out, her fingertips meeting his chest, and she fisted his shirt, easing him onto her. His body heat seeped into her, making her want them naked so their skin touched, but they didn’t have the time for that now. She would have to return to the saloon as quickly as possible and that meant there was also no time for games.

Perhaps just a quick one? Sara will understand.

Her desire for him tripled in the first few days of his return. By instinct their lips met, Amelia losing herself in the sensations of the kiss and wrapping her legs around his waist, smiling as thoughts of their earlier joining filled her mind. He broke the kiss and groaned.

“Oh yes, you love my legs wrapped around you, don’t you?” she asked.

“I love everything you do,” he said, his breath hot in her ear. “Every touch, every lick, every suck…”

She gasped at his words and palmed his ass, pushing his hard cock onto her mound. The hay rustled as he rocked above her, kissing her neck, trailing a line down to the dip at the base of her throat. He tongued it, licked up to her mouth, then pressed his lips to hers. She raised her hips, giddy as his cock pressed harder against her slit. Her bud ached and she clasped him around the waist, helping him to glide up and down. The movements brought on a surge of excitement and she arched her back, grasping his ass again. He continued to rock, making circular motions that upped her desire. Bliss spread from her bud to her folds, soft waves that threatened to grow and explode. He slid his hand beneath her skirt, caressing her outer thigh, smoothing his hand along its length. Bunching the fabric up to her waist, he swirled his fingertips over her hipbone and kissed her more deeply. She bent one leg at the knee, shifting her hands to the top of his back, and Emmett slapped her thigh, the strike a delicious surprise. The resultant sting smarted but God, she wished he’d do it again. It made it seem as though he owned her. Despite them not being married she was his woman, and she liked that. When he was at sea she hated the fact men forgot she belonged to him. The way they spoke to her in the saloon as if she was a common whore.

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.