Today’s post is “wicked” in a different sort of way. Elijah plays a wicked trick on Amelia which then leads to another activity that I wouldn’t be so vulgar as to post here!
A little set up, earlier that morning Amelia asks Elijah to be a dear and get rid of Mr. Henry Hirsute, his pet tarantula. Of course Elijah doesn’t wish to comply and they reach a compromise that Mr. Henry Hirsute will move from their bedroom to the parlor area and now Amelia and Elijah have just returned from a day out…
The picnic was wonderful with the tall shade tree, the cool water covering them to their ankles, the gentle breeze, the delicious food, and most importantly the company. Three days ago, she’d have never imagined they could be both friends and lovers. But last night had certainly changed her opinion of that. Her skin grew warm just thinking about it. Perhaps when they got inside, he’d hold up his earlier promise of ‘later’.
Or perhaps not.
“Elijah, why isn’t the glass on Mr. Henry Hirsute’s cage?” she nearly shrieked, on the verge of hysterics as she entered the little cabin where they were staying.
“I didn’t know it wasn’t.” Elijah stepped around her and went to the cage. “Damn,” he muttered.
“Damn? Damn what? What are you damning, Elijah?”
He shot her his best smile. “It would appear Mr. Henry Hirsute has decided to go on another travel adventure.”
Amelia shrieked. She didn’t give a hang if that made her a ninny. There was a fuzzy spider on the loose, and it could be anywhere! Screaming like a madwoman, she ran through the cabin to jump on the bed, stepping only on her tiptoes as she went. She wasn’t going to put her whole foot on the floor until Mr. Henry Hirsute was back in his prison cell.
“You think being on the bed will keep you safe?”
Amelia shivered. “It won’t?”
Elijah shrugged lazily. “I don’t see why it would. He can crawl up just as easily as he can crawl across a flat surface.”
Amelia jumped to her feet. “Elijah, I swear if I see that filthy scoundrel, I’ll kill him.”
Elijah chuckled and peered behind the bureau then under the wardrobe. “Must you call him a scoundrel? It’s not as if he’s the greatest debaucher in all of England.”
“No,” she said with a sniff. “He’s worse.”
Shaking his head, Elijah lifted the overhanging bedsheets and searched underneath them for his errant pet.
“Why did you have to keep him?” Amelia asked again.
Elijah frowned. “I couldn’t let him die, could I?”
“No, but you could have at least let his namesake adopt him.”
“You’re in a rather humorous mood today, aren’t you?” He lifted one of the bed pillows and looked underneath.
Amelia’s skin crawled. If that dratted menace had shed even one hair in this bed, she’d be taking up residence in the main house. “Why can’t you give him to Henry?”
Elijah heaved the loudest sigh she’d ever heard. “I don’t think that’s wise. What with how upset he was when Mr. Fuzzinelli died.”
“And just who was Mr. Fuzzinelli,” she asked though she doubted she really wanted to know.
Elijah placed his hands around her ankles, searing her skin straight through her stockings. “A distant relative of Mr. Henry Hirsute’s.”
“Enough said.” She darted her gaze around the room to see if she spotted the soon-to-be dead visitor. “Why did you name him after your brother, anyway?” she asked, hoping conversation would distract her enough to calm her nerves.
“I thought to name him Harry Hirsute, but that seemed too redundant because hirsute already means hairy, So naming him Harry Hirsute seemed to put too much pressure on him to keep his hair. What if he were to start losing it?” He shook his head, his eyes wide as if he were feigning some sort of great outrage. “Besides, Harry by itself is just too popular of a name.”
“Yes, because everyone names their pet tarantula Harry,” she said on the verge of hysteria again. She hadn’t spotted the vile creature anywhere which left two options: one, it was in the common room, or two, it was hiding and waiting to make its grand reappearance later—most likely at a time when Elijah wouldn’t be present. “Elijah, I’m telling you now, if I see Mr. Henry Hirsute and he’s not in his box, his new name will be Mr. Elijah Expired.”
“All right, but that means you have to come down here and help me look.”
Just then, something touched her calf and she squealed like the little ninny Elijah and Henry used to claim her to be. “Something touched me! Mr. Elijah Expired just crawled on my calf!”
“Hmm, I guess I’ll have to look into that for you,” Elijah said cool as can be, slowly lifting her skirt. He handed her the fabric to hold and slowly skimmed his hands up her calves, his eyes never leaving hers.
Were the circumstances any different, she’d melt into a boneless heap at his touch. He slowly rolled down the top of her stocking, then leaned forward and placed a kiss just behind her knee. “Elijah, now isn’t the time,” she choked. “Mr. Elijah Expired touched me. You have to find him now.”
“Yes, Mr. Elijah touched you,” he agreed, caressing her calves. “Mr. Elijah Banks, that is. Your friend Mr. Henry Hirsute has been safely curled up in the bottom of his box this whole time. I must not have shut the glass all the way, but he never got out.”
All the muscles in her body relaxed. “Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”
“I’d planned to.” He moved his hands up to rub her thighs, inching ever closer to where she ached to have him most. “But when I saw you stand up on the bed like this, I decided not to miss the chance to do this.” Just then, two of his strong fingers pressed against the sensitive flesh between her legs in the most delicious way.
She released her hold on her skirt and her hands flew to his shoulders for balance as his probing fingers continued their exploration, now adding a third to the fray. Her knees buckled and his strong hands moved to catch her.