Spanish Pirate: A BWWM International Legacies Romance

by Stevens, Camilla

  I put that thought out of my mind and swim all the way to the other side of the lagoon to float on my back. As the sun beats down on me, I close my eyes.

  The sound of a motor has me blinking them open again. I wrinkle my brow and rise up to tread water, turning around to face the small crack in the crater of rocky cliffs that surround this lagoon.

  There shouldn’t be any boats coming through here. The way that it’s situated, I doubt anyone could even see the small opening from the Mediterranean on the other side. The convent has a small port closer to the convent for boats to dock. That’s where anything we need gets delivered, and from where the vinegar and grape seed oil the convent specializes in is sent.

  When I see the motorboat enter the lagoon, my eyes go wide, mostly because there’s a young man at the helm.

  Oh dear God, they’ve found me.

  Chapter Three

  Leira

  My heart seizes with panic.

  Is this really one of the men of my father’s enemy? He looks so young. How the hell did they find me here in the lagoon of all places, let alone the island itself? Suddenly, the idea of being kidnapped, especially in my current state, doesn’t sound so thrilling.

  I quickly dive under the water and swim to one of the crooks in the cliffside to hide. The lagoon is large enough for the man not to have caught me before I made my escape. However, he decides to come to a stop at a place between where I’m hidden and where my clothes are.

  From my hiding spot, I watch him drop anchor near the cliffs. He disappears to grab something from the cockpit of the boat. When he stands back up, I see that it’s a small tote bag whose strap he throws over his body cross-wise. He walks around to the stern of the boat, and, much to my surprise, dives into the water completely clothed.

  My brow wrinkles as I search the surface of the water, only softening when I see him come up for air. He expertly swims to the cliffs and grabs a jagged edge to pull himself out of the water. From there, he climbs a bit until he reaches a small cave. I only know it’s there because he suddenly disappears from view.

  It seems this lagoon paradise holds more secrets than I thought.

  I think about making my escape while he’s gone, but think better of it. I could probably make it across the lagoon but getting clothed and climbing back up to the hole to the convent would take too much time. Better just to wait for him to leave.

  When he comes back out, I press into the rocks. Thankfully my skin tone, which is only a few shades darker than these brown cliffs, allows me to blend in.

  I breathe a little easier when he retraces his steps, swimming back to the boat with the tote bag around him and climbing back on board. What did he take up to that cave? I already know I’m going to explore it at some point—Dad always says I’m too curious for my own good.

  I’m all set to slink back into the water as soon as he leaves. Unfortunately, instead of going back to the helm and turning the engine back on, he removes the tote, which no longer seems as weighted as it once was.

  Then he removes everything else.

  I gasp when the last article of clothing comes off—a pair of black briefs, which he lays flat along the bow with the rest of the wet clothes. He just stands there naked, head thrown back, eyes closed to fully enjoy the warm weather.

  I lean out, my curiosity piqued even more.

  I’ve never seen a man naked before, at least not in person. A girls-only Catholic education and, more to the point, a father more terrifying than the devil himself, doesn’t give a girl many options.

  Still, I have enough experience with the opposite sex to know most grown men don’t look so…I don’t even know how to describe it. The way those muscles, without an ounce of fat, glow in the sun. The angular features of his face as he tilts his head back.

  Then, there’s the one area I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from. The patch of dark hair lies just below a stomach rippled with muscle. His dick is…long…and thick, even though it’s not even erect (yes, I have seen porn before, I’m not a complete neophyte).

  I briefly think about what it would be like if he was the one to…

  “It would hurt,” I whisper.

  A lot.

  Something about that triggers an intense wave of heat that runs through me. My mind continues along that deviant path, imagining his hands holding me down, maybe pulling my hair, or spanking me.

  If he were the one to kidnap me, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad…

  Once again, I dismiss those thoughts, shaking my head and frowning. Lucinda, like Layla, may have already been found with a bullet to the chest while I’m here swimming naked and fantasizing about one of the men responsible for her death.

  That thought brings me back to reality. A reality where it looks like I’m stuck here for a while. Pretty soon, the other nuns will notice my absence. I don’t know what would be worse, them discovering me here or the man on that boat.

  But what was the deal with him taking something up to that cave? And then taking off all of his clothes to enjoy the heat? Odd detours for a man intent on kidnapping me.

  Apparently, this is just his secret escape as well.

  He comes out of his daze and snaps his head back up to look around with a sharp gaze. I press back into the rocks, hoping he didn’t see me. He stands there, staring for what seems like ages, then seems to relax and his eyes drop back to the water.

  Rather than dive in, like I expected him to, he disappears back into the cabin of his boat.

  I wait for him to reappear, but the seconds turn into minutes. Whatever he’s doing seems to be taking some time.

  The perfect opportunity for me to make my escape.

  As silent and stealthy as an eel, I slip back into the water and glide back toward my clothes. I try to stay underwater as much as possible, only popping up to catch a quick, quiet breath before continuing. I feel my hope soar once I make it past the boat. During one of my resurfaces, I can see that my clothes are only about twenty yards ahead.

  Yes!

  I slip back and kick harder through the water. Maybe if I hold on, I can make it all the way there before—

  A firm hand clasps around my ankle.

  The shock of it causes me to scream underwater, swallowing some of it. The panic continues as that hand quickly feels it’s way up my leg…over my calf…up the back of my thigh…then across my ass!

  By now I’m bobbing up past the surface to gasp for air. But that hand has turned into an arm, now like a snake as it slinks around my mid-section just below my breasts, holding me tight.

  I’m still coughing and spitting out water as he draws me back into his front side, holding me there in an embrace that would put an anaconda’s to shame. I struggle and the only thing it accomplishes is my naked breasts brushing against his arm, and my ass sliding across something else.

  In this position, I can’t see him, but the entire backside of my body gets a pretty good representation of what he must look like up close, at least from the neck down.

  I feel his mouth glance across my ear as he leans down to whisper.

  “Quién eres?”

  Thanks to my father, I understand a good deal of Spanish, though I’m not nearly as fluent in it as English.

  Who am I? I’m certainly not going to tell him.

  My father’s warning rings in my ears even now:

  “You’re the last one I can trust with this, Leira. No dices una palabra. Don’t say a word.”

  I’ve stuck to that promise, staying perfectly quiet about it. Even the nuns on the island don’t know what Dad entrusted me with.

  The second I open my mouth now, who knows what I’ll be giving away? My best plan of action would be to stay silent. My eyes dart to the clothes, now only about ten yards away.

  A nun’s clothes, or at least those of a postulant. Mother Agnes refused to allow me to wear the full habit of an actual nun.

  For all this man knows, that’s what I am. None of the nuns here have taken a vow of silence.
I don’t even think that’s a thing anymore. But I’ll use any ammunition I can to keep myself from suffering the fate of Layla or Lucinda.

  Don’t. Say. A. Word.

  Chapter Four

  Enrique

  I sensed something was off long before I noticed her hidden in the rocks. I’ve always been one to trust my intuition and, as usual, I wasn’t wrong. As quiet as she was, I heard her in the water, even from the small cabin of my boat. That’s when I made my move to go after her.

  Now the only question is, who the fuck is she?

  This hidden island cove is supposed to be my secret. It isn’t visible from the other side of these cliffs. Even the opening allowing my boat access is hidden from the casual eye wandering past in the Mediterranean. If any of the sisters at the convent knew about it, they sure as hell wouldn’t bother making the trek through the opening in the cliffs to get to this little bit of paradise, the one I discovered twenty years ago.

  These days, I come here long enough to deposit whatever “booty” I’ve claimed from my latest pirating adventure. There’s something amusingly old-fashioned about having my own hidden treasure, one without any paper trail. The only map is in my head. Even my boat is devoid of any GPS or other mapping system. If someone did manage to follow me here, they’d have a hell of a time discovering the cave where my treasure lies.

  Until now.

  She hasn’t answered my question asking who she is yet, so I repeat it, harsher this time.

  “Quién eres?”

  Instead of answering, she goes back to struggling. Something about that soft, bare ass and smooth, brown skin slithering against my naked front side allows Mother Nature to take its natural course. I grip tighter and lean down to talk into her ear.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, you aren’t doing yourself any favors by struggling. Keep it up, and I may find another way to get answers from you, one that’s far more enjoyable—for me at any rate. I doubt you’ll feel the same.”

  I’m no rapist, but hopefully the threat will be enough to settle her down. Her struggling has ceased only long enough to listen to me. Then, she starts up again, this time less like a slippery eel and more like an escape artist, testing my grip.

  Maybe there’s something lost in translation?

  “Do you speak Spanish?” I hiss in English.

  She doesn’t look Spanish, at least not fully. The bronze skin and thick, curly hair hint at some kind of mix. From what little I’ve glimpsed of her, it’s one that works well.

  The fact that she went perfectly still in response to that question doesn’t tell me much. Either it’s a reaction to me speaking English…or it’s the very pronounced dick now hard and throbbing as it presses into her ass cheek.

  “I’ll take that as a yes to English?”

  She still doesn’t move a muscle.

  I shift my hand so that it cups one of her naked breasts, then I squeeze, just hard enough to elicit a soft mewl from her. I take one of her nipples between my thumb and finger, pinching it lightly, causing it to harden.

  Her mewling turns into a moan.

  It has the effect of sending the blood rushing to my dick, causing it to press even harder into her ass. Hopefully, that’s enough to add ammunition to my threat.

  “Dime! Tell me!” I order, using both languages for good measure.

  She wriggles again, trying my patience to the point of anger. One of her arms escapes and she points toward a small clearing by the water. I follow the direction of her arm and notice for the first time the clothes lying there.

  Well, that answers one question.

  So, she isn’t some mermaid, risen from the sea and transformed into a woman.

  I take in enough of the clothes from this distance to recognize the same cloth from my brief stint at the convent.

  My adoptive parents were just Catholic enough for me to have gone through confirmation. I haven’t done a good job of keeping up the faith since becoming an adult. But some things are too obvious.

  “Una monja? A nun?”

  There’s a slight pause before she nods her head in the affirmative. I’m not sure what the pause was for, but at least now I have an idea of how she got here.

  My eyes scan the cliff, finding that small opening near the top that the five-year-old me found once upon a time. I laugh as I consider the fact that one of the nuns managed to make it through that hole and down the cliffs.

  To swim naked?

  Her tragic mistake.

  Instead of releasing her to recover her clothes, I push off the rocky bottom of the lagoon I’m standing on and swim her toward my boat. She’s too stunned to do more than squeak out a cry of surprise.

  If she was under the impression that I’m a gentleman, she’s about to learn the truth.

  I reach the steps at the stern of my boat and struggle to drag her up and into the small cabin below. There isn’t much beyond a bar, bathroom and a large space where a wide bed is situated.

  I toss her completely naked onto the bed, happy to be rid of her, if only for a moment. She’s smaller than me, but spirited. And fucking sexy, now that I have a better look at her.

  I wait for her to scramble and cover herself with the sheets, even as I stand there fully naked with a half-erect dick.

  She stares at it with a mixture of trepidation and…curiosity? Maybe she really is a nun.

  Who swims naked?

  “So English or Español?” I ask, once she seems somewhat settled.

  She just stares at me for a moment, then brings one hand up to her lips and shakes her head, no.

  I chuckle and shake my own head in disbelief. When I steady it to give her a hard stare I decide on a different tactic. “Okay, just nod then. English?”

  She pauses, her gaze flickering. Just when I’m about to switch to Spanish, she shrugs and nods.

  “Good, that’s progress. Now, what the fuck were you doing in my lagoon…Sister?”

  She straightens up, looking defiant. I already know I’m not going to get an answer.

  Sure enough, no answer is forthcoming.

  I walk over to a locked drawer and use my thumbprint to open it. I pull out a pair of handcuffs. Along with a gun and other bits of “just in case” paraphernalia, I’m always prepared.

  Her eyes go wide and she begins to scramble across the bed, taking the sheets with her. I take hold of one corner and whip it away, forcefully enough to rip it right out of her grip. While she sits there stunned at her sudden nudity, I grab hold of her ankle and drag her back toward me.

  I reach out to wrest her hand away from covering herself so I can slap one of the cuffs on it, then attach the other end to the handhold near the bed.

  Now the moans and mewls of protest come. So she’s definitely not mute. Which is something I can work with.

  Because I plan on getting answers from her one way or another.

  Chapter Five

  Leira

  His eyes drag down my exposed body. I’m appalled to find that it sends a rush of excitement through me, a mixture of fear, adrenaline, and…pleasure.

  The first two take a leading role and have me bringing my knees up to cover what my arm no longer can. As the cool air of the cabin licks across what lies between, I realize this puts it all perfectly on display.

  He grins as I struggle to find a position that covers both my breasts and pussy. Just using that word makes me feel dirty, and not necessarily in a bad way.

  Mother Agnes would be appalled.

  Dad would be furious.

  A wave of heated exhilaration takes over my body, even as I settle on a prim and proper position. My free arm is pressed across my chest to cover my breasts, and my legs are bent to the side. Once I’m comfortable that I’m showing him nothing, I boldly stare up at this man once again. If he thinks he’s getting anything from me, verbally or physically, he’s in for a fight.

  This man with his hard, lean body and handsome face now frowning down at me with anger. This man with a penis that is
still sticking straight up—like a weapon.

  “What’s your name? Or do you prefer me continuing to call you, Sister?”

  He has an accent, which means he’s probably Spanish. Now, I’m glad I settled on English. I’d rather have the upper hand when it comes to communication.

  I stay quiet.

  “Sister it is then,” he says with a sigh, running his fingers through his thick, dark hair, which is still wet. In fact, everything about him is still wet, water falling in drizzles across his firm pecs, rippling over his abs, sliding into that v-shaped crease that leads down to…

  “Are you sure you’re a nun?”

  My eyes flash up to find his sardonically dancing as he stares at me. I glare at him and turn away.

  Why isn’t he getting dressed?

  He settles on the bed and reaches out a hand to grab my chin and force it up so I’m facing him again.

  “Give me at least a name, and I’ll go and get your clothes for you. I may even let you put them on.”

  Instead of feeling relief, I feel dread. He gave me no option to let me go. He’s taking me with him.

  He’s taking me with him!

  I begin struggling against the handcuffs, trying to force my hand out even if only by sheer will.

  “Stop! Basta!”

  I’m no longer interested in anything he has to say. Why the hell did I allow him to put handcuffs on me? I mean, it wasn’t like I had much of a choice, just as I didn’t when he somehow dragged me on this damn boat. He’s just so much stronger than me.

  I stop struggling when I realize, one, it’s hopeless and, two, he simply stares at me in amusement, also knowing it’s hopeless.

  My only saving grace is that he obviously doesn’t know who I am. If he were part of the same group who kidnapped my sisters, then he wouldn’t have to ask.