His Beautiful Wench (4 page)

Did I do it? Did I write that without realizing?

She darted her head from left to right, frantic that someone might be in the house with her. Cautiously, she opened a door to the right of the one that led to her rear garden. She entered a large room with a partition wall down the middle. One side must have been used as a pantry by the previous owner, as floor-to-ceiling shelves filled the space. The other side had pipes and a drainage system for a washing machine and enough room for a dryer and shelves. No one was inside.

She shook her head. “Don’t be stupid. You’d have seen them go in here.”

But how…? Who…?

Spooked, she darted forward, snatched up a tea towel and moved toward the worktop. No sugar or word met her gaze, the surface clean.

What the fuck?
She frowned and blew out a shaky breath.
Oh, so I’m going crazy now. Wonderful, just wonderful!

Tea towel flung to the worktop, Amelia added creamer to her coffee, thoughts of what she’d seen poking at her mind.

I saw it. I know I saw it
.

A shiver rushed up her spine and she took her mug, quickly walking into the living room as though being out of the kitchen would make the occurrence null and void. She curled up at one end of the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her. Darkness lurked in the corners and rendered the boxes and bags ominous shapes. She hunched in on herself, tense and uneasy without the light but reluctant to get up and switch it on. Amelia glanced at the doorway. Light from the kitchen lost its brightness as it spilled down the hallway, barely illuminating the bottom of the living room doorjamb. She sipped her coffee, hands encircling the mug. Once she’d finished her drink she’d get up, turn on the light and get on with unpacking. If it took her into the early hours, so be it. She refused to be swayed from her task by an unscheduled nap and her hallucination in the kitchen.

Okay. I live in isolation, so it isn’t any wonder I’m imagining things now it’s dark. No close neighbors up on this clifftop. No main road for me to hear the comfort of traffic. That’s what I wanted, right? Time alone. Space to breathe and regroup. This cottage is old. Bound to be odd noises and such going on. I knew that when I bought the damn thing!

She laughed quietly, shoving the feelings of insecurity away. “Come on, woman. You’re thirty-one not thirteen.” She smiled, shaking her head.

A swishing noise wiped her smile away. Her arms jerked and she gasped as coffee slopped from her mug onto her thigh. Jeans clinging to her leg, coffee burning her, she stood. Stuttered breaths left her, the exhalations sounding harsh in the hush, and she placed the mug on top of a box. Hand to chest, she willed her pulse to slow.

The sound came again, louder this time.

What is that?

She waited, breath held. The noise swooshed once more, rasping in the still air like wind sifting through a gap in a window frame. Amelia glanced to her left at the window. The trees and hedges bordering her front yard remained rigid silhouettes, the moonlight behind them eerie. She turned to face the door, expecting to see…to see what?

The swish returned again, and if the ocean wasn’t so calm tonight she’d swear it was the waves she’d heard. Another whoosh. She racked her mind trying to figure out what it could be.

Oh God. It’s got to be an intruder. The sugar… That word… That sound
…

She stared through the banister rails, squinting in an effort to see if anyone was on the stairs. The darkness was too thick so she tiptoed to the bottom step and peered up, heart beating painfully fast. Hand raised, she patted the wall for the light switch and pressed it. Brightness illuminated the living room and stairway. No one there. She stepped toward the door, unsure what she’d do if someone had gained entry to her home while she’d slept. A scream threatened to escape and she clamped her jaw shut, hands out, ready to attack as she made for the kitchen. The hallway loomed ahead, almost too long, too much of a trek in her frightened state.

The whoosh seemed to shriek this time, coming from behind her. Amelia whirled around, hands balled into fists. Her mouth trembled as she suppressed a yell. Her damn heart would give out on her if she didn’t calm down. Her gaze darted from the window to the front door to the stairs.

The wench dress lay in a heap at the bottom.

Her scream hurt her throat. She snatched up the frock and held it to her chest, a useless barrier between her and whoever had thrown it down the stairs. Amelia backed away, remembering she’d left her cell in the kitchen. She could call Matilda to come help her, but would her friend get there in time?

“Shit!”

Warmth spread across her belly and breasts and her senses dulled. She cocked her head, suddenly disoriented. Fear oozed out of her, a sense of tranquility taking its place. Her limbs lost their stiffness and she slid down, the door cold through her thin shirt, the floor hard against her ass. She gazed around, struggling to understand why she sat there holding the dress. Amelia opened her mouth to speak, but words failed to form and she couldn’t even remember why she’d wanted to call out.

“Come here,” Emmett’s voice whispered. “Come to your room.”

That timbre made her shudder and infused her with heat. Juices seeped from her cunt and she slid back up the door, the dress tight to her chest.

“Amelia? Where are you, my beautiful wench?”

His voice drew her up the stairs. The air held a suggestion of sea salt and the aroma wrapped around her in a calming hug. On the landing she paused, frowning. On the other side of the stairs, where usually there was an outside wall, now another landing spanned the depth of her home, four doors closed—doors that didn’t belong in her cottage. She moved to investigate, confused as to why they were there.

“Come, wench. Come to me…”

Amelia whirled, extra rooms forgotten, and looked into her bedroom. She started to enter but her footsteps took her past the opening and to the attic doorway. Had she closed the door when she’d left the attic earlier? She couldn’t remember. Shaking her head, she placed her foot on the bottom step. It groaned beneath her weight, the reverberation shimmying up her leg. She stared at the uneven walls, trying to comprehend what she was doing up here again. Above, a shock of moonlight lit the far wall, the rafters free of cobwebs and dust. Her frown hurt her forehead as she fought to understand what was wrong. Hadn’t the attic been filthy before?

“Amelia…”

Frantic, but not sure why, she hung the dress over one arm and undid her shirt buttons, stripping the fabric from her body. She unclasped her bra, dropping it to the floor before pulling down her jeans. Her thong followed and she left the clothes where they’d landed, her nipples perking in the cool air. She took the steps two at a time, the dress swishing around her legs, and stood at the top facing a wooden sideboard that held a matching jug and pitcher. The memory of them tugged at her mind and she struggled to grasp where she had seen them before. Failing, she narrowed her eyes and looked at the windows. The wooden chest sat beneath one, the lid closed, and the moon shone, easily seen through the clear panes. Again she shook her head in an attempt to digest her surroundings, coming up with nothing of significance.

Amelia turned to her right. A beautiful iron bed fitted against the wall, the headboard barely slotting beneath the sloping rafters. A candle burned on a cherry-wood bedside cabinet, the taper long and thin. The light illuminated a patchwork quilt and she smiled. A sense of knowing filtered through her mind. Beneath the quilt lay a man, one she knew intimately.

Oh no, here we go again…

When her gaze met his, her head cleared of all previous thoughts.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Emmett asked, one side of his mouth lifting in a grin as he eyed her naked form. He threw the quilt back and she gasped at the sight of his hard cock.

“You looked so peaceful. I didn’t like to disturb you.”

She dropped the dress to the floor and stared at him, taking in every inch of his exposed body. His bronzed belly, with its defined stomach muscles and smattering of hair that tapered down to his pelvis, made her long to run her hands over it. His nipples, darker brown than his skin, stood out and she wondered if that was from the cool air or arousal. Whatever the cause, she wanted to take them in her mouth and suckle, swirling her tongue over the hard nubs while he had his hands in her hair and his cock pushing inside her. And that cock… So rigid and long, and the memory of how his width felt inside her brought a rush of cream to her cunt. She loved this man with all her heart and soul, and as he looked back at her, she knew he felt the same way.

What did he see when he regarded her this way? Her long, wavy black hair was splayed over her breasts, nipples peeking through the tresses. Did he wish his hands were there, her hair coiled around his fingers as he tilted her head back, taking her from behind? Did he long to tongue her nipples, sucking them hard the way she liked? And what of her legs, the full thighs and shapely calves. Did he lie there now, wishing she would wrap them around his waist, crossing them at the ankles so he could drive his cock deeper inside her?

“Do you want me, Emmett?” She lifted her hair with one hand so it rested against her back and then jutted out her exposed breasts. “Like I want you?”

His cock bobbed and he grasped himself, looking down for a moment before returning his gaze to her. Chest rising and falling, he whispered, “Is this not proof of how much I want you? How much I’ve missed you?”

Amelia lowered her hands to her thatch and slipped a finger inside her folds, bringing it back up to her mouth. She licked her finger then sucked it, closing her eyes to savor the taste. A smile touched her lips. Her actions would be driving him insane. Their games always did. Teasing one another, testing how far they were prepared to go, and how long they could make the other wait. Oh, she loved them. She opened her eyes to see his reaction.

“Fuck, wench!” He pulled down on his cock, gaze roving her from cunt to breasts to face. “What proof do you have for me?”

She withdrew her finger and smiled. “Was that not proof of how much I want you? I’m wet, Emmett. So wet—”

“Amelia,” he said, voice hard and commanding, “you need to come here.” He worked his hand up and down his cock slowly, jaw muscles flexing.

“And why is that?” She smiled once more and began lowering her hand again.

Emmett hiked in a ragged breath, his smile warm yet tinged with impatience. He needed her so much, she knew that, but was it fair to make him wait like this when he had only just arrived home?

“Because I need you. Want you. Want to taste your cream as you kiss me.” He released his cock, smoothed his hands on the bed then gripped the sheet in his fists. “And I need you
now
, wench.”

“Perhaps,” she said, turning her back to him, “you need to wait a little longer.” His groan flipped her stomach, her excitement growing to such a degree she almost gave in and went to him.
Almost, but not quite.
She caressed her sides, moving her hands to her ass to cup the swells, wanting his rough hands there instead of her own.

“God, Amelia…”

She swiveled to face him again, drawing her hands up her thighs and parting her folds so he could see the beauty inside. “Your mouth would feel divine here.” She slid one finger up and down her opening, circling the tip around her engorged bud. “Your tongue—”

“Amelia! God, wench! Come to me.”

“How much do you want me, Emmett?” She ran her hands over her stomach and up to her breasts, cupping their softness as though weighing them.

“More than ever.”

“Tell me. What do you want to do?” Thumbing her nipples, she waited for his words. Words that would stop the game and send her to him.

He bunched his fists tighter and the muscles in his legs flexed. His cock strained, lifting away from his body, and God she wanted to sink onto it, feel its rigidity expanding her sheath.

“I want to touch your wet slit. Slide inside you. I want…
need
to have you close, your skin against mine. I want to hear your heavy breathing as I love you, hear your cries as you come.”

She rushed to the bed and sat beside him, leaning over to press her chest to his. His hairs prickled her skin and hunger for him consumed her. Her lips touched his and she dashed her tongue out to explore his mouth. He groaned and held her closer, hands roaming her back to settle on her ass, thumbs stroking her hipbones. Amelia maneuvered over him, kneeling with one leg on either side of his thighs. Her need for him swept her up—lust, longing and the desire for him to bring her to completion. She looked at him, took in the fine hairs on his arms, his muscles moving beneath his skin as he caressed her backside. He held his breath, waiting for her next move. His cock tip nudged her opening and she bit back a moan, resting her hands on his chest. The contact thrilled her and she thrust down, savoring the sensation of him filling her. Wanton lust urged her to ride him hard. With forceful movements, she set a quick pace, wanting immediate release. Wanting him to come and fill her with his seed.

“God, I can’t get enough of you,” he said.

She sucked in a breath and plunged down on him harder, faster.

“That’s it, wench. God, I love you riding me. Yes!”