Midnight Caller (Moonlight Romance) Read online

  He stiffened, grunted, and tilted his head back. Arms quivering, he let out a quiet roar.

  If only he had said her name.

  She framed his face with her hands and they kissed while his release ebbed. Sparks flew and the air ignited. When she pulled back he let out a satisfied sigh.

  He unmingled their bodies and she immediately missed the feeling of them being one. They had fit together so perfectly despite the fact he towered over her. “Thank you,” he murmured.

  “Mmm-hmm.” He incited sensations she had never felt before and now her body was fully alive. She knew if she begged for more, he would comply. But that did not seem ladylike. Sex wasn’t supposed to feel this good, was it?

  He lay next to her and drew lazy circles around her breasts. He brushed her nipples and her breath hitched. His slight touch deepened the throbbing between her thighs. He left her hungry.

  They lay there for a long time, Emma resting in the crook of Frederick’s arm. She felt safe next to him. The safest she’d felt since Hank’s passing. The heat of his body warmed her bare skin. There was something relaxing about the masculine scent and the weight of the man beside her. She rested her head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. She wished his body would belong to her forever, and not just for tonight.

  But he was black. She was living as a proper woman, fully accepted into Louisville society. She didn’t have a bloodline behind her name. She had worked hard to make up for that and garner the respect of the important people in town. If they knew of her impropriety, there would be no turning back.

  She watched him take off the condom, pad over to the washbasin, and clean it before putting it in his pocket. He rejoined her on the bed, snuggling close. She rested her head on his chest again and he brushed his fingers through her hair.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

  She smiled. She could easily get used to this.

  Her eyes fluttered open. She must have fallen asleep. Had five minutes passed or an hour? Her mind was clouded. Where was she? She was tired, but happy, her mind hazy from the sensory overload. There was a strong man beside her. A man who smelled of sweat, river water, and sex.

  Frederick moved his arm, and she turned her head toward him. Seeing him brought her back to reality.

  There was a prostitute in her bed.

  “Do you want to go again?” Frederick asked.

  Her body said yes, but her heart warned her to be careful. How much passion could she handle without swooning for this masculine yet gentle roustabout? Likely she would never see him again. The thought made her feel hollow. She might as well enjoy the moment.

  “Yes,” she said, a finger traveling across his square jaw. Her folds moistened waiting for him to fill her a second time.

  He sat up and drew her to him. She loved being cradled in his powerful arms. “Would you like to try a different position?”

  Heat bloomed in her cheeks. There was more than one position? Hank always had his way with her while she laid there on her back. It had never been passionate and after he had relieved his urges he pulled out, leaving her empty.

  “I don’t know any others,” she said softly. “Will you teach me?”

  Chapter 4

  Her innocence infused him with a heady rush. Frederick lay on his back and pulled her on top of him. He wondered briefly if her husband had ever taken her needs into account. “Your husband never showed you any other ways?” How could anyone be so thoughtless?

  Emma shook her head shyly

  Such a beautiful woman needed to be loved right and loved often.

  His cock thickened. He wished he could be that man. What? He couldn’t fall in love with a white woman. It would be dangerous for both of them. He’d be lucky if all he got was a broken heart and not a broken neck.

  His lips threatened to fold into a frown. He struggled to continue being the carefree lover. She stirred genuine feelings inside him, and he didn’t know how to act. He wanted this evening to be unforgettable. He’d never wanted to work so hard to please a woman, but thinking of her deprived lit a fire in him to give her everything she had been missing.

  “Let me lift your legs,” he said, “and I will fill you so fully we will both come.” His voice was strong, demanding.

  She gasped.

  The sound of her shock reminded him of the danger he was facing just being with her. He glanced down at her smooth belly and heat flooded him, making it difficult to keep his passion leashed. “That is if that’s what you want,” he added, forcing the polite words out of his mouth. Still, his tone retained a rough quality. “I won’t hurt you.”

  He reminded himself of the boundaries in their game. He had to watch himself. His desire threatened to overpower his commonsense, crumble his act. The act he was known for. But the deep hurt in her heart shown in her eyes and he wanted to take away all her pain and replace it with bliss.

  “Yes. That’s what I want.” Her hot breath bathed his lips. A hand boldly trailed down his thigh.

  His breath caught in his chest. She rekindled the spark inside him, fanning him with the heat in her fingers. He wanted to bury himself inside her again. Her delicate touch was driving him wild.

  She opened her legs. “What do I do now?” she asked innocently.

  “Put your ankles on my shoulders.” He helped guide her into position and pressed his arousal at her entrance. He dove into her with one long plunge and reveled in Emma’s shocked expression. He braced himself over her and began to pump his hips back and forth. She felt good and warm and tight. Too good.

  Thankfully it didn’t take too long before Emma’s hands fisted in the sheets. She tossed her black-haired head back into the pillow.

  Her panting became faster, in rhythm with her movements. Seeing her complete abandon was his undoing. His pulse accelerated and he neared the top of the cliff.

  He gritted his teeth, his whole body taut. Sweat beaded on his forehead. It was not polite to go first. But she was making it very difficult to hold back.

  Finally, she gasped. He reached down to touch her, brushing her cheek. Allowing himself the same pleasure, he screamed her name silently. They trembled together then sagged onto the sheets, sated.

  “That was amazing,” she said, her voice ragged.

  Yes it was. But he couldn’t agree. This was for her enjoyment. He basked in her afterglow. “I’m glad.”

  She folded herself against his body, lying on her side. On impulse, he threaded his fingers through her hair. He never touched a woman without her permission, but with Emma it seemed safe. Her every movement responded to his touch, encouraging him.

  Seeing her naked, he realized she was more tan than he first thought. Even in the darkness of the room, he saw the golden hue of her skin. It was like the sun had gently kissed her body. He found that arousing. He cupped her cheek and slowly moved his lips to hers in a gentle caress.

  In a strange way, she seemed familiar, as if they had known each other for years. She opened herself up to him. He could imagine them together. Waking up next her. Living with her. Spending every day with her.

  She looked into his eyes, a dreaminess about her. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought her angelic gaze conveyed a hint of love.

  His muscles stiffened. He slowed his breathing, his heartbeat fading to a thick throb. No. She couldn’t love him. That was just not possible.

  He was a whore. A black whore.

  There was no way they could be together.

  Chapter 5

  Emma watched Frederick dress. Her heart ached at their parting. “Can I see you again?” She winced at the pleading timbre to her voice. She had given away the fact she was desperate. She needed him.

  “You know there are others. The network. I don’t work alone.”

  Heaviness filled her chest, weighing her down with a pound of sorrow. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

  Frederick grunted.

  Emma bit her lip. He didn’t seem pleased. “So will you?”


  “Yes,” Frederick said, not looking at her.

  His refusal to meet her eyes increased her agony. Had she done something wrong? She was satisfied and after the second time they made love, she knew he was too.

  But her brawny lover had grown colder as the hours passed. They had cuddled again after their second intimate dance and then he stiffened next to her. By the time their night together came to an end, she was lying next to a board.

  Still, she hadn’t experienced so much pleasure in all her life. The heat emanating from his body had kept her comfortable and content the rest of the evening. Although she was bothered by his sudden unease.

  “When will you be back?” Tomorrow wouldn’t be soon enough.

  “Send me another note, have a runner take it to the steamboat docks along with another payment. I’ll be back in port in two weeks,” he said, businesslike, and then slipped out the bedroom door.

  At least he hadn’t slipped out of her life forever. Fourteen days. She’d hold her own private countdown looking forward to their next meeting together. Without him, her days and nights would be lonely.

  A thought nipped at her heart. Was he the only man who could fill that void?

  Maybe she could figure out a way to keep Frederick coming back. She wanted to get to know him on a deeper level. But he was black. How deep did she dare to go?

  She sat at her secretary. Elbow on the desk, she rested her head in her hand. Frederick was only doing his job—being tender and giving her compliments. She wasn’t anything special to him, so why did she feel such a strong connection?

  She was making it up. It had been too long without male company.

  Would another man, a white man, give her the same satisfaction? Her mind raced through the list of eligible bachelors in town. None appeared to be great prospects. Of course, they were white…

  There had to be a way she could continue to see Frederick so that it didn’t cost her everything she had worked for.

  Or, worse, cost him his life.

  Chapter 6

  Streaks of sunlight brightened the gray sky. The stars faded until they were barely visible. Frederick had stayed with Emma longer than he intended. She seemed so happy lying against him, her silky, soft skin pressing into his dark planes. He wanted to give her that pleasure.

  Watching her fall asleep, a dreamlike smile on her face, gave him a strange satisfaction. He could watch the rise and fall of her chest forever. He had let her sleep too long, enjoyed holding her close. Now he didn’t even have time to wash the aroma of lovemaking off his body.

  Frederick ran the last of the way to the steamboat. If he didn’t board before they were scheduled to set off, he’d either get a whipping or get fired. Neither was appealing. Steam poured out of the smokestack, the Comet roaring to life.

  George stood on the deck, tapping his foot and frantically looking for him.

  His lungs burning, Frederick joined him. He bent over and wheezed, dragging breath deep into his lungs. That was close. He had never been so wrapped up in a woman before.

  Frederick felt a strong hand on his back. “Trouble?”

  Frederick shook his head. The only trouble he had was almost losing his heart to a white woman. And he had agreed to see Emma again. What was he thinking?

  “Good. I was getting worried,” George said. “Most of the passengers are already on board.”

  “I know,” Frederick said, straightening. He cupped his palms over his eyes. “I lost track of time.”

  “She was that good, huh?”

  Frederick lowered his hands and stared at his brother. The teasing glint in George’s eye irked him. Yes, he often thought of his nighttime activities as a game, but it hadn’t been a game with Emma. It had been real. All too real.

  She was so young, so innocent, and unable to hide her true feelings. She didn’t despise the fact he was colored, didn’t care he was a prostitute; she acted like she could truly love him.

  A tremor rattled his insides. That was frightening. He had never met a woman like Emma before.

  Frederick changed into his work clothes and the Comet began traveling down the river. His sore legs wobbled and it took him a second to gain his footing. Time to be a roustabout.

  He would be away from her for several days. It would give him time to clear his mind and get his head screwed on straight.

  Frederick sat against a cotton bale, his eyelids as heavy as lead. His head fell forward and he got a short nap before George shook him awake. “Time to get to work,” he said in an obnoxiously loud voice.

  Frederick winced. “Yes, sir,” he grumbled.

  George punched him in the arm and smiled. Frederick followed him off the steamboat, grabbed the tobacco crates, and carried them on board the ship. It was an easy job aside from the hard labor.

  “Tired?” George asked.

  Frederick grunted.

  “You still owe me the rundown.”

  “I know, I know.” Frederick lifted another crate. He forced his legs to move. All he wanted to do was curl up on the deck and sleep. No woman had drained him like this before. He didn’t care about spilling the details to his brother. Right now he just had to get through this day.

  A burly mate with straw-like hair eyed him, his hand tightening around the handle of his whip.

  Frederick swallowed hard and increased his pace. If he didn’t keep up with the other workers, he’d pay for it with his blood. The steamboat had a schedule the captain tried hard to maintain.

  George began singing an old plantation work song. Despite the fact it reminded him of his painful past, Frederick was grateful. Some of the other roustabouts joined in and they worked faster, keeping in rhythm with the song.

  Frederick smelled his arm. Emma’s perfume was faint, but still detectable. It gave him a burst of adrenaline. He wished her scent would stay with him all day. The July heat was sweltering. Sweat drenched his back, wetting his skin and drowning her aroma.

  His eyes stung and he blinked. He licked his lips and tasted the tang of salt. Breathing heavily, he helped load the ship one stop at a time. His muscles ached; his face and neck burned in the sun. This was the life of a roustabout—the life of a colored man. He was just like the rest of the roustabouts, like most of the field hands except he had taught himself to read and write and sexually satisfy women.

  In the South, he was still at the bottom rung of the ladder.

  Emma deserved much better than him. She could be his fantasy, but nothing more. Would he be in her dreams tonight?

  The thought gave him a secret thrill.

  What was Emma doing? Could she still smell him on her sheets? Or had she stripped the bed and immediately washed them?

  She had practically begged him to come back. It had gone against his better judgment, but he couldn’t say no. Not to her. Likely she was just lonely.

  A white woman would have to be out of her mind to seriously consider taking a tryst with a black man any further. Even those who liked the rush of danger, those who shot rifles and rode fast horses, knew it was best to stay away from him.

  He wouldn’t be responsible for ruining her reputation.

  If Emma was lacking common sense, he would put up a stronger barrier. He would continue servicing her, but she would never again touch a piece of his heart. If he was distant and detached when he kept her company, she would get the message. Unfortunately, his body was all he could give her.

  That night he laid on the deck, his brother next to him. The weight of his body sunk into the wood—his only bed. Now he was surrounded by the smell of dried mud, water, and salt.

  Not the flowery scent of his time with Emma.

  “Hey,” George whispered, so the mate on watch wouldn’t hear, “tell me about last night.”

  Frederick sighed. He just wanted to sleep, but he knew his brother would keep pestering him until he relived the evening.

  “She was small and shapely and her touch was tender.”

  George nodded, waiting for hi
m to continue.

  “She was younger than I expected.”

  “How young?”

  “Twenty or so. And she looked so innocent…”

  “Twenty,” George said loud enough to draw the mate’s attention. The man stared at them for a long second. Frederick held his breath. Sometimes they didn’t need a reason for a beating. Finally, the man returned to his watch.

  Frederick gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to slap his brother. He didn’t have the energy.

  “I thought you only serviced old widows.” George’s voice returned to the volume for his ears only.

  “She was a widow,” Frederick said, “but not old.” She seemed so fragile as if she was made of glass. She needed someone to protect her, take care of her.

  George’s eyes glazed over, clearly trying to picture Emma. Frederick formed a fist. He wanted to punch his brother in the stomach and make him stop. He didn’t want any man but him picturing Emma. Her soft white skin naked, writhing with joy as he—

  Frederick scrunched his eyes closed. She might as well have infected him with a deadly disease. At this rate she was going to get him killed.

  Yet, maybe it would be worth it to spend a little more time with this tender woman—a cherub who viewed him as nothing less than a man.

  Each day was agonizingly long. He watched the passengers boarding the ship. None of the ladies were as beautiful as Emma, even if they wore fancier bonnets and fuller skirts. At night he enjoyed the reward for a hard day’s work—sleep and dreams about his angel.

  At last they had traveled as far as they were going down the Kentucky River. The Comet turned around and headed back toward Louisville.

  Gooseflesh rose on his arms. Despite constantly reminding himself of the inherent danger in this situation, he was impatient to return to the city. The steamboat was carrying him back to Emma.

  Chapter 7

  Emma strolled through town, basking in the memory of her time with Frederick. Her life didn’t seem so daunting. Frederick had given her the care and attention she needed, the strength to carry on with her life. She carried that secret with her wherever she went, holding it close to her heart.