His Beautiful Wench (5 page)

Amelia dug her fingers into him and chased the pleasure, willing it to rise and swamp her. It neither heightened nor abated and, frustrated, she uttered words she knew would get her to where she needed to be. “Your cock, sir, feels so…good.” Saying her thoughts always seemed so naughty, so unladylike, but that was what she wanted. To be free to say whatever she liked, to express herself to Emmett, showing him her trust and how comfortable she was with him. “And your hands on my breasts… Touch me there. Show me how much you love my body. How much you love me.” She stared at his face, waiting for his reaction.

He clamped his jaw as though struggling to stop himself from coming and she smiled at the power she had over him. Smoothing his hands up and down her sides, he grinned, obviously wanting to take control himself.

She wouldn’t allow it. Not this time. “Touch them, I said.” She half-closed her eyes, peeking at him through her lashes, panting for him. “You hear that? Hear how I pant for you?” When he continued caressing her sides she said, “Now. Touch them, make my buds harder. Lick them, suck them.” Tongue sliding across her lips, she tilted her head back, knowing he would struggle to hold off coming now she’d begun talking. She smiled and looked back down at him. “Don’t you want to touch them, Emmett? Don’t you want to feel them in your hands?” She paused, releasing a breathy
Ah
, then whispered, “Because I want you to.
Need
you to. And if you don’t touch them, you won’t hear my cries. You won’t hear how much pleasure you give me.”

Emmett growled and clamped his jaw, hands still on her sides. Amelia upped her pace on his cock, pressing her hands into his chest for more leverage. She stared at him, daring him to disobey, and the burning she craved started in her cunt. He groaned, eyeing her chest, clearly fighting against her wishes. His fingertips bit into her skin and he aided her rhythm, crushing her down onto him with forceful jerks.

“Emmett… Come on now, you know you want to touch me,” she panted out, doing her best to hold off coming herself.

He groaned again and cupped her breasts, thumbs playing over her hard nipples. She released a triumphant moan, glorying in the knowledge she’d won their battle of wills. He massaged her globes, the skin-on-skin contact thrilling Amelia to her core.

“Suckle them,” she ordered, winding her hands around his neck to pull his torso upright. The shift in position let his cock enter her more deeply and she jerked up and down, his cock seeming wider, longer this way. Her cunt ached, pulsed, and she ground her nub against his pelvis.

Emmett dipped his head, tonguing one nipple then sucking it into his mouth. He tugged it, rearing his head back until her breast distended. She enjoyed the jolt of pain that quickly turned to pleasure and shoved her chest out, needing him to suck and pull back again. He did, biting lightly on her bud this time, adding pressure bit by bit. When she couldn’t take the sweet pain any longer she leaned forward, gasping as the torment ceased. He released her and dragged his lips across to her other breast, licking the soft flesh, flashing his tongue over her nipple, scooping it into his mouth and repeating his actions of before, easing his head back to create pain then stopping before it became too much. He knew her needs so well, seemed to read her mind, and she loved him so much for that.

Emmett took his mouth away. His breaths flew out of him and he looked up at her, his stare mesmerizing. He palmed her breasts, massaging them. Amelia took in another sharp breath and gazed down at his hands. The sight further ignited the fire raging in her core and she upped her pace, giving him the sounds he craved, low moans and loud gasps. He thickened further and she felt the throb of his excitement as he neared coming. The explosion of her orgasm came on swiftly and she threw her head back, closing her eyes, more low moans issuing from her mouth.

Emmett groaned. “Ah, fuck, wench!”

His seed spilled, warming her sheath. Amelia cried out so forcefully her throat hurt. Increasing the pressure on her nipples, he bucked his hips. She lowered her head and opened her eyes to find him looking directly at her.

“Oh God, Emmett…”

Leaning down, she brushed his mouth with hers, tasted the salty sweat on his upper lip. His tongue parted her lips and they shared a long kiss as she slowed her movements. Her heart beat so damn fast. His cock and her bud pulsing brought on another rush of desire and she took her mouth from his and sat up.

“Touch me. Make me come again.”

He slid his thumb over her bud and moved it up and down. The feel of that combined with his still-hard cock inside her brought on a sweep of pleasure that grew in intensity the harder and quicker he rubbed. She opened her eyes and looked down, watched how he touched her, and a forceful orgasm slammed into her. Head thrown back, she cried out, gripping and digging her nails into her thighs. She pushed her bud into his thumb and he pressed, his faster movements aiding the rush of bliss gripping her lower body. Resting his other hand on the small of her back, he tried to hold her still as she bucked and keened.

“I love the sounds you make,” he said, voice hoarse.

She let out one last cry and gripped his wrist as her pleasure began to recede. Sweat dripped down her temple and every part of her body seemed to hum, her skin buzzing and alive. Emmett stilled his thumb. She opened her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder, waiting for her breathing to return to normal. Her heart beat hard and fast. How could she bear to be parted from him again? And so soon?

Dear Lord, make the time go fast while he is away.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Hearing those words brought a smile to her lips. “And I you,” she said.

“You will have to go soon.”

“Hmm.”

“When you leave, I’ll go to my rooms and bathe, then bring the sculpture back here before going to the saloon.”

She thought about bathing herself, but that would mean pulling away from Emmett. If only they could stay this way, content in one another’s arms, the world kept at bay. With reluctance, she drew herself up on one elbow and propped her chin in her hand.

“I should get ready.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“As do I, but I have to. Just for tonight.” She smiled, stroked his cheek. “And we can sneak away, like we always do. Just for a little while.”

He playfully slapped her thigh and she climbed off him, leaving the bed to wash at the sideboard. The washcloth was rough on her sensitive folds and the lavender soap took all scents of him away. Amelia swallowed the lump in her throat.

One day he will never have to leave. One day I’ll never have to wash him out of my body. One day
…

Finished, she faced her lover. He sat on the edge of the bed, putting on his boots. He deftly buttoned his shirt and stood, releasing a big sigh. Was he thinking the same as her? She took her dress from the footboard and held it to her chest, wanting nothing more than to climb back under the covers with Emmett. He walked around the bed and stood behind her, one hand covering her shoulder, the other lifting her hair from her neck. A light kiss touched her nape and her stomach rolled over. God, how she wanted him again. She turned to him and he took the dress, draping it over her head and pulling it down her body.

“You must go,” he said, stroking her face tenderly.

Amelia traced her finger over his lips and stared into his eyes. “Will we walk to town together?”

“Aye, my wench. We will.”

* * * * *

Amelia stood behind the bar in the saloon, pouring ale from a large pitcher into tankards. Men of varying ages supped and conversed, their rowdy voices meshing into a continual hum. Serving wenches received slaps to their rumps. Tobacco smoke rose and partially obscured the rafters, the stink of it mixing with the aroma of hops and too many bodies in one place.

Calls of welcome rent the air and Amelia looked up from her task. Emmett stood in the doorway, hair damp from his recent wash. A fresh pair of breeches covered his muscled legs and a crisp white shirt, tucked into his waistband, accentuated his broad chest. He raised a hand in greeting to the customers without glancing their way, his gaze firmly fixed on Amelia. Her stomach lurched and her cunt clenched. How she wished she wasn’t working this night!

He sauntered over to the bar and rested his elbows on it. She placed the pitcher down and breathed in his scent.

“I want to take you here and now,” he whispered into her ear.

His hot breath sent a shiver down her spine and she smiled, nipples tautening. “In front of all these people?”

“No. I wouldn’t want these men ogling your body. When can you slip away? I need you.”

Tendrils of desire swirled through her and her slit moistened. She peeked over his shoulder and caught a serving wench’s attention, indicating with a tilt of her head that the woman should cover her post.

“Now,” she whispered. “Meet me out back.”

Emmett stood upright, his grin showing even teeth. “My, I’m glad you’re as eager. And we’ve been apart only an hour.” He winked and stepped backward to the door, disappearing through it, his shadow flitting past the large window opposite the bar.

The serving wench appeared beside Amelia, her smile wide and a sparkle in her eyes. “Be off with you,” she said. “No one will notice you’re gone.”

Amelia’s heart rate increased and she patted the woman’s arm. “Thank you, Sara. I won’t be long.”

Sara laughed and refilled the pitcher, pouring drinks into tankards held out by impatient men. She whispered, “He’s either that good or he doesn’t last long. Which is it?”

Amelia blushed and nudged Sara’s hip with hers. “He’s that good!”

A silver tankard in a meaty, tanned hand jabbed toward Amelia and almost touched her cleavage. She turned from Sara to see who held the vessel. A man of about thirty, maybe five years older than herself, glared back at her, his skin leathery, deep wrinkles beside his eyes. A mop of unruly brown curls hung over knowing green eyes and his nose skewed sideways as though it had been broken in the past. Fleshy lips spread into a lecherous grin, spittle gathered in the corners. Though repulsed, Amelia smiled and cocked her head toward Sara.

“Sara will see to you,” she said, anxious to get away from this man’s penetrating stare and join Emmett.

The man’s eyes darkened and his brow furrowed. “No.
You
serve me.”

His voice chilled her and she suppressed a shudder, debating whether to give in to his demand for the sake of peace. He thrust the tankard at her again and the base touched her breasts. She stepped back, heat warming her cheeks, and pressed a hand to her chest. Other customers moved along the bar, giving the stranger a wide berth. The man’s width and countenance frightened her, as did his angry glare. She spun and dashed through a door leading to the kitchen. The cook glanced up from placing pastry atop a tray of pies, nodded and resumed her task, clearly oblivious to the fear inside Amelia. A sense of foreboding stole over her and she rushed toward the rear door, pushing it open with her palms.

Out in the balmy night, she sucked in a breath, hands to her chest. The creamy arc of a full moon peeked over dark clouds. She jerked her head left to right, her heart banging a speedy rhythm beneath her palms. Where was Emmett? He usually stood in the far right corner of the courtyard, where darkness shrouded him should anyone happen by.

“Emmett?” she whispered urgently. “Emmett! Where are you?”

A hand clasped her left wrist and she shrieked, pulling her arm in an attempt to free herself. A figure drew her near and a hand snaked around her waist. The scent of lavender and Emmett’s chest against hers made her sag with relief.

“What the devil’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low.

Gasping for breath, Amelia clung to him, her cheek on his chest. “Thank goodness it’s you!” A sob rose in her throat and she swallowed it down, tears stinging her eyes.

“Who else would it be?” he said, his teasing tone easing her fears.

She lifted her head, straining to see his face in the gloom. “No one. No one, I… There was a man in there. He frightened me.” She loosed an unsteady laugh. “I’m just being silly.”

“Frightened you?” Emmett grasped her wrists and held her at arm’s length. “In what way?”

Amelia related the encounter. “It happens, except…except he was different to…to the others somehow.”

Emmett’s thumb caressed her jaw. “How so?”

“He… Oh I don’t know! He seemed sinister.” She traced his chin with her finger. “As though he wished me harm, but it was only something I sensed.”

Emmett’s grip tightened. “What did he look like?”

She closed her eyes briefly, the man’s image vivid in her mind. Eyes open, she tugged Emmett to their left, heading to the stables. “Portly. Brown hair. Possibly a broken nose.” A horse snickered at their approach and Amelia opened the main door that led to several stalls and a hayloft. “He was…ugly.”

Once inside, Emmett squeezed her shoulders. “How tall?”

Amelia looked up at his face, just about able to see his features in the darkness. “About my height.”

“Christ!”

Emmett’s swallow sounded loud and she imagined him frowning.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, fear pricking her skin.