Captive Bride, page 11
“Howdy, Mr. Sommers. What do you think?” She turned so he could see the intricately draped bustle.
“Beautiful. Another winner.” He returned her smile. “And you look lovely in it, Dora.”
She laughed and her cheeks flushed from pink to red. “Naw. I told Huiann she should be the one wearin’ it. She’d be like a fancy doll. But she says she’s too short and the hem would be wrong. Now that you’re taking orders, I think the ladies need to come here to be measured and fitted.”
Alan wasn’t too keen on the idea of anyone seeing his dressmaker for fear Huiann’s whereabouts would somehow get back to Xie. Although the likelihood of information traveling from San Francisco’s middle-class ladies to Chinatown was slim.
“Maybe you could do the measuring, Dora,” he suggested.
Huiann rose from her knees, plucking pins from between her lips. “Good?”
“Yes, good. A beautiful dress,” he said. “Someone will snap that right up. At this rate you’re going to need more fabric soon.”
Dora lifted her skirts showing dingy stockinged feet as she stepped down from the ottoman. “Mr. Sommers, thanks for payin’ me to help Huiann with the sewing. I was gettin’ desperate to find work. No one would hire me, and Ralph…he wanted me to start earning my keep one way or another.”
Alan understood her meaning. Ralph wasn’t particular about whether Dora earned cash on her back or on her knees if she couldn’t get any other job. Alan would like to punch the man in the face, but it wouldn’t change things for Dora. The only way a bad-tempered drunk like Ralph would stop smacking her was if she left him or he landed himself in jail. Unfortunately, the law didn’t concern itself with the way a man treated his wife, let alone some woman he was just living with.
“We’re grateful for your help, Dora. With both of you working, this dressmaking is turning a nice profit.” For the highest echelon of society there were private dressmakers, but supplying New York fashions at prices middle-class women could afford was proving very lucrative.
Alan pulled out his wallet and he offered Dora a dollar. “Here. You’re going to want something to show Ralph this is a real job.”
Her eyes glowed as she accepted it. “But we ain’t finished the dress yet, let alone sold it.”
“This is an advance. When I pay you the rest, you might want to hold some back. Hide it someplace safe in case you need it.”
The concept should’ve been obvious to a woman living with a man who’d drink up every penny in the house given the chance, but Dora wasn’t too bright. Her eyes opened wide as the idea sunk in. “Oh. Sure, Mr. Sommers. Maybe I’ll do that.”
She went to Huiann’s room to change from the half-finished frock into her own worn dress. Without the buffer of Dora’s chatter to distract them, the simmering tension between Alan and Huiann resurfaced. She bent to collect scraps of fabric and pack her sewing kit while he retreated downstairs. He brought coal for the cookstove from the bin in the cellar and fetched more water into the house. By the time these tasks were finished, Dora was gone and Huiann was dishing up their dinner.
The domesticity of the pair of them sitting down to share a meal had become an integral part of his day. He was always happy to face Huiann across the table, even when things were awkward between them, as they had been since the night of the kiss over a week ago. He talked to her and she responded, using her newly learned English to tell him about her day in short sentences, each syllable painfully pronounced.
“I get the water. Make the soup. I and Dora sew the dress. You?”
In return, Alan told about his day in the shop in the simplest terms possible. But beneath the frothy waves of small talk floated an iceberg of attraction that filled the room. While they both staunchly ignored it, lust threatened to sink the flimsy raft of words that carried them from postwork to bedtime.
After dinner they went to the sitting room, cleared of sewing paraphernalia, and worked on Huiann’s lessons. Alan quizzed her on all the words she knew and on the written words he’d taught her. The Chinese language was constructed in an entirely different manner from English, but she’d caught on to the concept of alphabet letters strung into words and words added together to form sentences.
Sitting beside her on the sofa while he tutored her was torture. He could smell her hair and his arm kept brushing against hers. Memories flashed in his mind—her weight on his lap, the feeling of her lips mashed against his, the whimpers she’d made as he kissed her. It was getting hard to remember why he shouldn’t kiss her when it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“Aran?” Her soft voice mispronouncing his name brought his attention back to the present. “I and Dora sew dress. More dress. More money.” She frowned as she searched for words to express her thought. “More women sew dress. More money.”
She gestured around the room and held her fingers an inch apart. “Too small.”
Alan nodded. “You need more space for a workshop, and I’m sure there are plenty of women like Dora who’d be happy to earn an honest wage. I’ve been thinking of renting space.”
Her eyes were trained on his mouth, decoding his speech, and he realized he’d used too many words. He rephrased. “Yes. More women sew dresses. Bigger room. Good.”
Huiann’s dimples flashed as her plump lips curved and something inside Alan snapped. Logic fled, instinct took over and he bent to kiss her smiling mouth. The sense of relief was overwhelming. This was all he’d needed, just one kiss to satisfy him that her lips really were velvety soft. Now he could stop thinking about them.
But of course one kiss wasn’t nearly sufficient. He cupped her face and her skin was warm satin. Her jaw moved beneath his palm as she opened her mouth and latched on to his. Alan put his other hand around her waist and pulled her to him across the worn sofa cushion. Her body was solid and warm in his arms.
Her hand slid up his chest and curved around the side of his neck. She wanted him too, and there was nothing wrong with them kissing a little, nothing wrong at all.
Kissing would be enough. He didn’t need to go any farther. He plucked at her lips with his, running his tongue over her lower lip before catching it lightly between his teeth. His cock grew harder as his tongue slid into the wet heat of her mouth. His kisses grew greedier as he ached for more. Gripping her cotton blouse in back, he longed to slide his hand beneath and touch her skin.
Sitting side by side on the sofa was awkward so he pulled her onto his lap. The small bumps of her breasts pressed against his chest and her bottom settled across his thighs and rubbed his erection. He groaned. God, he was a fool to imagine that kissing would be enough. It only made him hungry for even more. His hand drifted lower, from her blouse to her skirt, but there were too many folds of material and he couldn’t feel her bottom.
Huiann pulled away. She took her hand from the back of his neck, pressed it against his chest and gazed into his eyes from inches away, her lips moist and her chest heaving. She said something and touched his face, tracing the shape of his eyebrow and cheekbone before resting her fingers on his lips. The soft caress stole his breath and sent a new wave of heat coursing to his cock.
She might be saying she wanted him or politely telling him they must stop now. He had no idea which so he kissed her fingertips and drew her index finger into his mouth. She gasped as he sucked on it and rolled his tongue around her finger.
He placed a hand on her thigh, pushing her skirt up a little, making a silent suggestion and waiting for her response. She murmured something. Encouragement? Denial? Impossible to tell but she didn’t push him away.
Alan released her finger from his mouth and kissed her lips again, then her chin and throat, her pulse fluttering beneath his lips. He licked her, tasting her salty-sweet skin.
She wiggled on top of him. Exquisite torture since his cock was now throbbing. He kissed her chest then rested his head against her breast and listened to her rapid heartbeat. She stroked his hair, but the comforting which he’d enjoyed the other night was no longer enough. He wanted so much more. He needed to be inside her, longed for it with a raging thirst that couldn’t be quenched by anything less.
Closing his mind against concepts like ethics or consequences, Alan moved her off of his lap, rose and held out his hand. “I wish you would come to my bed.” He pointed toward his room with his other hand. “My bed.”
Huiann took his hand and he pulled her to her feet. She looked up at him with her dark eyes and nodded. “Shi.” Then she bit her lower lip and her cheeks flushed as she added more. Touching her hand to her sex, she shook her head.
Alan nodded. “No. You don’t have to.”
“You bed.” She nodded. “Lie down. No more.”
“No more,” he agreed. How many men in the history of the world had made such a promise to a woman then used the rest of the night to chip away at her resistance? He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t push for more, but be content to have her lie with him all night long. That would be enough, though his cock ached with need.
He took her hand and led her from the room. In the dark of night, with only the kerosene lamp he carried to drive away the shadows, there was a dreamlike sense of freedom to do things that weren’t allowed in the bright light of day.
In his room, Alan set the lamp on the nightstand and turned to face Huiann. She looked nervous, but a tiny smile let him know she was happy with her choice. This was not something he’d compelled her to do.
Alan stepped forward and did the one thing he’d longed to since he’d first seen her. Taking hold of her shoulders, he turned her around and unfastened the braid that bound her hair. Plait by plait he worked it loose then combed the silken mass with his fingers until it hung straight down her back. He gathered up handfuls of the shiny black strands and pressed his face into her hair, feeling the softness against his cheeks and inhaling her scent.
“I love your beautiful hair.” He turned her to face him again and pulled some of the locks over her shoulders.
She smiled and reached up to touch his hair, saying something in Chinese. Then she fluffed her fingers through it. “Silk. Like dress.”
He grinned. “That’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever gotten. Although a man would usually rather be praised for his manly physique.” He looked at the bed, the covers drawn up earlier in the day by her hands. “Would you like to lie down?”
Her eyes were somber and her smile gone, but she nodded. “Shi. Yes.”
“We could…We’d be more comfortable without our clothes. Not naked,” he rushed to add. “In our underclothes.” He demonstrated by unbuttoning his shirt.
Huiann swallowed but nodded curtly. As resolute as a soldier going into battle, she began to unfasten her blouse. Alan prayed she wasn’t complying from some sense of obligation. He didn’t want that, but neither could he bear for her to leave him to spend another night alone.
After stripping off his shirt, Alan sat on the edge of the bed and removed his boots and socks then hesitated over his fly. If he kept the trousers on, that would be two layers instead of just one keeping his eager cock battened down. But it would be so much more comfortable wearing only his drawers. He unfastened the first button and glanced up to see Huiann hesitating over the waistband of her skirt.
She wore only a chemise on her top half, leaving her arms, shoulders and cleavage bare. Her small breasts filled the front of the garment, and her nipples made two dark impressions against the fabric. Alan choked back a groan and left his trousers on.
Huiann pushed her skirt down her hips and let it drop to the floor. Beneath, she wore no petticoat, only bloomers which covered her to mid-calf and the pair of slippers she always wore around the house. She kicked them off, removed her socks and her feet were bare.
Alan pulled back the bedcovers and offered her his hand to help her into the high bed. She sat with her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around them. The drawers crept higher to reveal more of her legs. With her hair down and little clothing covering her body, she looked very young and vulnerable.
Alan lowered the lamp flame until there was only a glimmer of light in the room. His skin burned with fever as he climbed into bed beside Huiann. He felt like a groom on his wedding night except, he reminded himself, there would be no copulation. None. Not tonight.
But there were other things they could do. He slid an arm around Huiann’s back and cupped her chin in his hand as he kissed her. Her lips opened willingly. The tip of her tongue met his without shyness. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the joy of having her in his arms and in his bed, her tongue tangling with his. He pushed his hand through the slippery strands of her hair and cradled the back of her head.
Together they sank onto the mattress, lying face-to-face. The bed was too narrow for two, but Alan would’ve been entwined as close as possible with her even if they were lying in his parents’ huge tester bed, the one his Dutch grandfather, a wealthy merchant, had brought over from Amsterdam.
But there were more interesting things to think about right now than a fancy bed. He had one arm around Huiann’s back. With the other he stroked her arm from shoulder to wrist, feeling the texture of her skin. When he lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, she sucked in a breath. He slid his mouth up the inside of her arm, eliciting murmurs of pleasure. Each soft moan made him harder and hungrier. He could devour her rather than just kiss her arm. His need pulled against the harness of his control like an unbroken horse. Lying with her like this was a dangerous game, but he was confident he could stop himself from going too far.
Alan kissed her neck and then her chest above the neckline of the chemise. He kissed her shoulders, collarbones and the curves of her breasts, warm and plump beneath his mouth. He dared to dip lower and roll his tongue over the bump of a nipple under thin cotton. He drew the bud between his lips and sucked.
Huiann gasped louder. She cupped his head and he thought she might push him away, but instead she held him there.
Although the wet fabric clung to her, it was still a barrier to what he wanted. Alan pulled down the neckline of the chemise until her breast popped free. It was petite and round, the dark nipple slightly upturned. He nuzzled the small globe with his nose, breathing in her scent before taking her erect nipple into his mouth again. He savored the taste of her sweet flesh and cupped her other breast, softness filling his palm.
Huiann arched into his touch then reached down, grasped the hem of her chemise and pulled it up. She took it off then lay down again. Her hands fluttered like birds, starting to modestly cover her breasts, hovering for a moment then changing course. She brought her hands down to her sides and lay still, allowing him to look at her.
Her naked torso gleamed in the faint lamplight. He feasted on the sight of the delicate collarbones and curve of her shoulders, the mounds of her breasts topped by dusky, distended nipples, her flat stomach and slender waist. More than lust pulsed through him. Alan felt a physical pain in his chest at the sight of her fragile beauty, and a savage desire to tear apart the man who would have sold her into slavery. He would keep Huiann safe with him forever.
She plucked at his undershirt and he sat up and removed it. Before he could lie back down, she stopped him with a hand on his chest and took her turn examining him. Chinese women were supposedly demure and diffident, but Huiann often displayed such spirit and confidence. These qualities were what had helped her escape Xie Fuhua rather than giving in to her fate.
It was difficult to sit still while she looked at him. Her scrutiny made his muscles twitch and his skin tingle as if it were her fingers rather than her gaze wandering over him. The admiration in her eyes made his cock grow even stiffer. At last she reached for him with both hands, an imperious empress demanding the attention of her slave. He surrendered to her will and lay beside her, resuming his attention to her breasts. He caressed and kissed them and sucked on each nipple. If he wasn’t going below her waist, he’d take full advantage of this area he could explore. But soon his hand glided of its own accord down her stomach toward her pussy.
Huiann murmured a protest and stopped him with a light touch on the back of his hand. “No. Alan. No good night.”
Chastened, he slid his hand back up to her belly and rubbed little circles there. Such smooth, taut skin. He rested his head on her breast and felt her chest rise and fall. His cock dug into the side of her hip and he thrust a little to relieve the tension, but that only made him want more contact.
Huiann rolled onto her side and patted the pillow, indicating he should lie flat. She lay beside him and explored his chest, her fingers fluffing through his hair and tracing circles around each areola. She plucked at one of his nipples and his stomach tightened.
“I’m never going to make it through an entire night with you if you keep that up,” he warned.
But she was relentless. She dragged her tongue over one nipple while her fingers toyed with the other. Her long hair tickled his skin and sent shivers through him. She splayed her hand wide over his belly and moved it slowly down toward the bulge in his trousers. His stomach muscles jerked as she drew closer to his painfully swollen erection. Then she touched it and the warmth of her hand, even through two layers of fabric, nearly made him explode.
He grabbed her wrist. “Jesus, do you know what you’re doing?”
She stopped licking his nipple and looked at him with a worried frown. “No?”
He realized then that she was trying to please him. She was offering a generous gift, but was it right for him to accept it?
Alan hadn’t the strength to answer that question. His need was too great and she was too willing. He released her wrist.
Huiann molded her hand around the bulge in his pants and stroked its length. She murmured something in Chinese as Alan’s eyes closed and he groaned.
