The carriage ride back to the hotel room was silent, Delilah could of sworn she heard the Christmas carolers from a block away, along with the loud bell of Saint Paul's Cathedral church across the city- indicating it was past noon and another day of the world still surviving after the Great War ended completely.
Delilah stared through the crack in the thick purple curtains, the passing glimpse of stone and marble buildings not once touched by bombs settled peacefully under the winter sun, the sky clear, and air still chilly but the wind was nothing more but a soft breeze. "Does it get cold where you are from?"
Wyatt chuckled lightly from her curiosity, it seemed to her America was a recently discovered land hidden from others. "I was born and raise in a state called Maryland, in the capital of Annapolis. And yes, it can get very cold but not until January. I should give you a book of American history and its geography, you have so many questions."
"I have never met an American before. I've met a Frenchmen, Russian, Egyptian, a Nigerian, and even a man from Brazil; but never a man from United States."
"Mistress Avenue must be very popular."
"Very. Madam Charlotte makes sure her business are one of the best, there were a few times where she managed to run every known competition out of London. How she did it, I do not know, but it would take no more than a few days." Delilah's lips tugged into a proud smile. She looked up at Charlotte when it comes to a woman's needed strength, but never for love, such feeling was never shown behind those closed doors.
Wyatt took notice of her fidgeting fingers, he restrain from grabbing her hands to make her stop and give comfort. "What's wrong?" His tone was cold and harsh, he wanted to know what was bothering his company and wanted to eliminate it immediately.
Delilah looked up from her lap and shook her head while forming a light smile. "Nothing... well, I just do not want to go back tonight. But one must go home eventually, why not soon."
"Well, I have you until sunset, let's not make the best of it." His blue eyes flashed with sin, lips tugged into a wolffish smile, and a soft laugh formed in his throat as his body relaxed into the leather seats. The American no longer scorn over the fact he was stuck in London for a very long time, but only focused on the woman beside him. The need to have Delilah in his arms again was what drove his sense of relaxation, what caused his cheeks to turn red, eyes losing its natural icy glares, and laughter to pass his lips as if speaking to an old friend. 'Don't let your guard down so easily O'Connell.' He warned himself with a inner scrawl.
The carriage stopped outside the entrance of the Paddington, the carolers were still begging for donations through their singing voices and seemed they weren't going to leave any time soon now the weather was giving them mercy. A young baggage carrier opened the door on Delilah's side, his young juvenile eyes locked into her lovely face; cheeks turned red and mouth parted as if trying to find the words to say.
The young woman giggled while grabbing his offered hand. "Thank you." She squeaked, knocking the boy out of her trance.
Before the boy could register why his body has reacted in such an unprofessional way, Wyatt was already towering over him in intimidation- which was enough to send him running. "Donald." The American barker, easily grabbing the old man's attention through the sound of joyous holiday singing. "Please tell the kitchen to prepare Delilah and I lunch, preferably tomato soup with a side of sourdough bread, also bring up wine, cheese and grapes if they have it."
The old man nod while taking the order in. "I will bring the platter and wine up to the room in thirty minutes."
Wyatt gave a curt and accepting nod before looping his arm around Delilah's and leading the way to the door, not before stopping in front of the carolers and dropping five shillings into the red bucket- the gesture earned him many smiles, but the only one that mattered to him was the biggest of them all.
They were safe from the cold in the hotel room, their skins crawled with goosebumps and cheeks were icicles by time walking through the door. "I must ask, is America weather better than England's?" Delilah giggles while removing the wool blanket from her shoulders after getting rid of her gloves and earmuffs. She sat upon the couch and watched the broad shoulder and muscular being work his magic upon the fireplace, so easily the American set flame to the stacked logs and pushed the chill out of the room.
"I would not lie and say no. California and Arizona are one of the few states that's warm throughout the year, their winter feels like your fall."
"I would not like that at all." Delilah spoke truthfully like many times before. "I would love to see snow fall at some point and time, and imagine the summers, our summers are already hot enough; I do not want to melt under the sun."
Wyatt chuckled once again for the second time today, an unusual habit, even around his own family and college friends. He stood next for the fireplace that stopped just below his armpit, the craft upon the wooden panels were of angels and and flowers. The light danced along his cheeks as the curtains blocked out the natural sun, it made him look mysterious and sinister with just one glance. "Come, I want to show you something." Breaking the space between them with two long strides, he offered his large hand.
Delilah did not hesitate to be trapped in his warmth and lead the way into the large bedroom, the bed was waiting patiently with its fresh sheets, and four post bed. 'Patience, Delilah.' She warned herself while focusing on whatever Wyatt had in stored. "Oh, what is it?"
The ancient artifact held rust upon the gold painted steel in the shape of a curvy horn, holding it up were a oak box with lever like material and circular cool surface. Instead of answering directly, Wyatt leaned over towards an unpacked suitcase with stacks of square envelopes the size of his hand, printed bold writing were upon the surface, but most of it were scrapped off or fading from time. Revealing a glossy black disk, he placed it on the cool circular surface before rinding the side as of it were a jack-in-the-box.
Instead of a smiling clown, music popped out of the horn and caused the young woman to jump and giggle in shock. Before she could trip over her feet and run, Wyatt placed a firm hand upon her lower back and smiled bright in humor. "It's called a phonograph, made in 1945. It was in my family for generations and one of the saved artifacts during the war. The music was found by my father and I kept them."
Delilah eyes the device closely before focusing on the music that poured out of the horn. The song was a smooth melody with a fast tempo of trumpets and a piano, she never heard such a thing before, emotions filled the song in each note before the woman could even sing. "Who is this?"
"Billie Holiday, very known back then. The music is called the blues, not too different from jazz but the name does distinguish the two."
"Because it's sad?"
"Most of the time." Grabbing hold of her hand once more, Wyatt tore her away from the magnificent piece of history and settled in the middle of the room. "May I have this dance?"
Delilah looked nervous, dancing was not one of her talents nor were she asked to do such a thing by anyone. "I do not know how." She confessed while lowering her gaze shamefully.
"I can teach you. I've recently learned how to dance myself, just five years ago I was the worse dance partner in all of Maryland. Women would leave the event with swelled toes."
Both shared a light laugh from his self teasing, the music continues, not once missing a beat. Wyatt already wrapped his arm around Delilah's waist, almost naturally she knew to place her hand upon his shoulder; their bodies grew close with just one squeeze of his arm, chest to chest, eyes locked and lips inches apart. They swayed to the music as a good start. "Why are you not married, Mister O'Connell?"
"Wyatt... call me Wyatt. And I do not know, saying I am busy all the time is overused and not exactly the best excuse, my travels does not stop the ceremony if matrimony, and even my lack of patience and overworked mind is not enough to be an explanation."
"That does not answer my question."
Wyatt sighed heavily, his goofy smile twitched into a frown and eyes grew dull. "Marriage is nothing to me, ever since I were in college I was advice to marry in two weeks of seeing a girl. I've been too annoyed to even bother anymore."
"Mister O'Connell." Donald was heard over the music, his voice alone managed to break the two apart. Walking out to the sitting room, the older man stood waiting with the coffee table already prepared with the cheese platter and appropriate glasses of wine. "Stag's Leap Cask 2178." Pouring a drop in a glass and hand it over to his boss.
Taking a good whiff of the burgundy beverage before sipping upon it. "Acceptable, thank you Donald."
"You are welcome sir, I will be back with lunch." The old man dashed out the room, not before pouring more wine into both glasses and bowing lightly.
Delilah sat down on the couch and took her glasses, the object was cool against her fingertips and the beverage coated her tongue- honey, blueberries, and rosemary. The taste was sweet and also bitter, she shivered from the unfamiliarity and smiled in discovery. "It's good."
"One American trait that's true is our loving for beer, we only drink wine on special occasions, but the only other alcoholic beverage they serve here is Vodka."
"Yes, after the war the alcohol content in England was limited to potato and grape grown. Anything other than that is only found in underground parlors and carried in by foreigners."
"How do you know so much?" Wyatt spoke in amazement, his eyes dazed and lips tugged into a small smile,
Delilah filled her cheeks with the wine before answering. "You will be surprised how many scholars walk into Mistress Avenue, they would come in during the day, sit around and talk to anyone who would listen. my chores would be done early and I would sit with them, many times it's not about desire or sex, it's more of having someone who cares. Of course, Charlotte would shoo me away before the time of talking turns into something more."
Donald walked in once more with the promise lunch, the soup was steaming and it's scent filled the room. Delilah's stomach growled and her mind drifted away from her life story to the primal need of food. The old man set the plates on the coffee table, next to the untouched cheese platter. "If you need anything else, sir, I will be in my room." Another bow and the man left them alone again, this time walking to the other side of the hotel into a smaller luxurious board. The door clicked closed softly and the space between the two turned silent.
Both dived for the food in a slow and professional fashion, the first two sips and bites of bread were enough to satisfy them enough to continue their conversation. "I've listened to so many stories, yet my passion to travel is nothing more than a dream." She continues, the words poured out her mouth as if she were speaking to an old friend. "My aunt... well, Charlotte's sister travels. Her tactic of making a home is where her heart is, but it is not enough to have a steady life. She has to beg for money, ride with strangers to land unknown to her, and fight for her survival. It fears me."
"Perhaps it's the sense of freedom that drives your Aunt to travel."
"I've realized as I grew older, it's sounds pleasing, but perhaps I'm too spoiled to even think of living such a life." Silence came upon them as they continue to indulge on soup, wine, and cheese. It wasn't until their bellies were too fall when they were stuck to speak again. "Can we listen to more Billie Holiday?"
Wyatt rubbed his chin to his his admiration to her cluelessness. "Yes, whatever you want."
"Can we dance again? I want to learn more."
"I can teach you some things I know." Extending his hand, Wyatt grasp the fragile limb lingering in hesitation. Guiding Delilah back into the room, he closed the door to keep the music from reaching Donald's ears and whatever else were to happen in the four walls. The first disk was switched out for another, an entire album of Billie Holiday's famous songs started with the slow emotional tone of Strange Fruit. "It's one of her best works." He stayed while gathering Delilah into his arms. "Speaks of lynching in the south of America."
They swayed to the sad lyrics, Delilah was forced to press her cheek against his chest to hide her glossy eyes and trembling lips. The steady of his heartbeat and wonderful scent of coconut oil and firewood was what kept her tears away, along with his arm securely around her waist and their fingers intertwined. The song was over in the matter of minutes, the next held a slow tempo like the last, it held a different message of love.
Delilah pulled away, dancing to a love song wasn't for the best interest in keeping this man out of her head. Their conversations were enough to place a hole in her wall of disconnection. "Do what you paid for, Mister O'Connell?" Her tone was strict and bitter.
Wyatt raised a brow at the sudden change in attitude and watched as her hazel eyes grew darker and dance along the room- not once glancing at his face. "Look at me." He spoke in a tender tone, one that caused Delilah to sigh softly and do as she told with a soft gaze. "Are you still soar?"
Delilah shift on her feet, her legs and core were no longer numb, but the feeling of him never left her mind. Shaking her head no, Delilah reaches upward to release her hair from the messy bun, she recalled him removing the ribbon from her head and letting her hair fall into her face. "Shall I undress you?"
"No." Just one answer unlocked the pool of lust in his cock, his sky blue eyes turned a shade away from being royal, skin burning, and lips part as he sucked in a sharp breath. "Turn around."
Slowly turning, Delilah pushes her hair to one side and waited for his rough fingers to untangle the tight strings. Each tug held anxiousness and hurry, even Delilah was on edge to feel him; to have his fingers upon her bare skin, large body pressed against hers, and hear his groans- his deep smooth sounds that escaped his throat every time he thrust his hips and her core clenched around his cock. She shuddered, her cheeks burned red as the dress fell from her shoulders and arms with just one tug at the wrist.
Next the corset held the same fate of her gown, leaving her bare under the thin fabric of her long sleeve underdress. Delilah turned around to stare into his eyes, her passion and desire to have him showed in her eyes and cheeks, her hands raised to his shirt; but Wyatt grabbed them before her fingertips could brush against the silk like fabric.
Before she could speak or show signs of confusion, his lips clashed into hers with a gently force- both moaned in delight and shared a curt chuckle from each other's eagerness. Wyatt picked her up with ease, one arm around her waist while the other took hold of her thick thigh- it was the only part of her body that held maturity, other than her breast that fit perfectly in his hands.
Delilah fell upon the bed, her back molding into the firm mattress, her legs spread apart as his own hips settle between them. She gasped, her fingers gripping his raven color hair that was combed back in perfection, her head tilt backwards into the thick covers, and toes curled in a form of satisfaction. His lips attacked her neck and jaw, nibbling her soft skin- not too much where it left marks. Wyatt made a trail of kisses down her neck, collar bone, and then exposed chest. He continues on once palming her left breast, the thin layer of fabric still between them.
Wyatt was bound to his knees by time he was down kissing every inch of her body, his hands grip Delilah's ankles and positioned her heels upon the edge of the bed; legs forced apart and underdress fell to the base of her thighs. "I will fuck you with my tongue, Delilah, that is what I am paying for."
Delilah sucked in a sharp breath before it turned into a loud gasp of shock. His tongue was cool from the wine, wide, and slightly longer than normal. The wet sensation made her shiver and thighs close unconsciously, but his wide shoulders and grip upon her ankles kept them spread apart; leaving her vulnerable and under his control.
Her taste only was enough to make Wyatt's cock grow and twitch, his grip upon her ankles moved upward to her thigh and breast, and tongue licked slowly up and down her core before finding the sensitive bud waiting for attention. "Ahh." Delilah moaned sharply, her fingers bound to his hair in a tight grip, thighs frightened to close once more; instead she thrashed under his touch.
"Wyatt." His name rolled of her tongue so smoothly, she tried to hide her face in the covers, to lessen her moans by clamming her lips shut, and close her thighs to make the extraordinary sensation to stop. Delilah wanted to crawl away and stay at the same time, her body burned and heart beats fast, her fingers couldn't let go of his hair, nor could her body keep the leg jerking orgasm hidden away for another minute.
A long groan past her lips as she let go, body fell into the mattress as all her energy left through her core and into his mouth, eyes barely stayed open, and breathing unsteady and shallow. The sound of Billie Holiday singing in the background came back to their attention, the love song was over, now it was an upbeat tempo that matched their fast pacing hearts.
Wyatt stood to his feet, his tongue darts out to gather her juices upon his lips. Eyes locked into hers, he unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants to let them fall to his ankles before grabbing her legs and turned the fragile being on her stomach with ease. Delilah's feet dangles an inch above the ground, her ass exposed and bare, and core still throbbing from the orgasm; yet, she still wanted him, all of him.
She gripped the sheets to prepare for his throbbing cock, his body hovered over hers like a shadow to a single candle light- waiting for the flames to burn out so the shadow can swallow the candle whole. Rough fingers caressed her cheek, guiding her head to turn so their eyes can lock once more.
Wyatt watched closely; her burning cheeks burn brighter, hazel eyes darkened and grew droopy with lust, lips part as a silent cry past them while he buried his cock deep inside her sex. He groaned lightly, her core clenched upon him, not yet recognizing his shape until he placed a light kiss on the corner of her lip.
Delilah reaches back, her fingers dig deep into his bare thigh, urging him to continue and take her. One hard pump of his hip, she screamed in shock and begged with a soft moan right after. He continues, pumping his hips hard and fast, not once holding back his lust and passion as the urge to bring them both to climax weighed down his chest. "This is what you want?" The American's voice was barely unrecognizable; husky, low as of whispering, and coated in primal need.
She continued to gasp and moan, each thrust was sending her over the edge, and her breathing was barely steady. Still, she managed to answer with a squeaky unrecognizable voice of her own. "Yes, sir."
The comment made Wyatt even more satisfied and proud of himself, yet, the back of his mind still had doubt. To push the doubt away, he moved faster and harder, making the fragile woman under him to scream in the covers as she came around him without warning. The tight clench of her core caused him to stop and grow stiff, just before his fluids were to show itself, Wyatt pulled away and allowed his seed to coat her ass like milk in dark chocolate before they were infused.
He fell into the bed sweaty, breathless, hair fell into his face in natural curls, eyes sparkled with satisfaction, and lips threatened to tug in a light smile. Delilah took notice of his state of vulnerability, no icy glare or stern frown. Without thinking, she reached forward after catching her breath, the tips of her fingers gliding along his sweat coated forehead while moving a thick lock of hair out of his eyes. The touch carried to his cheeks, in which she caressed and felt the in grown stubble stab at her palm.
The silence between them was deadly, the music changed from upbeat tempo and back to a slow emotional song of the past. Wyatt took one more breath before it became steady once more and his heart calmed, his own hand pressed onto hers and lingered before he pulled her hand away and roll out of bed, leaving her stranded and conflicted as he staggered into the bathroom.