Sea of Ruin

by Pam Godwin

  Without his shoes and frock, he wasn’t armored to walk among his men. Perhaps he was too shaken to maintain the elegant veneer he wore beyond that door.

  Was he wearing a mask now?

  I drew in a steady breath and stepped toward him, just close enough to examine him in the moonlight.

  His arms dropped to his bent knees, and he lifted his head.

  And I saw him.

  I really saw Ashley Cutler for the first time.

  I pulled the coverlet tighter around my nude body, shivering in the grip of Ashley’s unguarded stare.

  More than just his soul shone in those luminous blue eyes. I saw the wreckage of his true self, the terrifying depths of his fears, the corruption of his desires, and his deepest regrets.

  He must have heard me sobbing when I’d thought I was alone, and that shamed me deeply. But he wasn’t without his own shame. The bewailing, contemptible things he’d done and left undone had bled the color from his face, drawing deep creases there, heavy with shadow.

  His expression showed everything. His stately demeanor gone. His armor destroyed. His impenetrable walls floating adrift like flotsam.

  I wasn’t sure if all that emotional carnage was connected to me. But I’d blown the veneer off his elegantly constructed bearing, and he didn’t seem to know how to repair the damage.

  As he regarded me, his eyes begged for forgiveness. My heart pleaded for justice. Perhaps we both wanted mercy, but I had none to give.

  “I botched this.” He scraped a hand through his hair. “Rather spectacularly, I’m afraid.” His voice sounded strange as he rose to his feet, holding my gaze. “It wasn’t my aim to expose you to my unseemly manners.”

  “Unseemly manners?” I backed away, boiling with outrage. “You viciously fucked my arse, Ashley. You took care of yourself and just left me there without so much as a pat on the head. Even Madwulf would’ve shown me more decency than that.”

  He flinched, his features contorting in pain. It was startling how much he didn’t look like himself. Oh, he still had that gorgeous innocent-looking face, but it was softer now, almost younger, if that were possible. He didn’t wear the mien of a commodore and lord. He looked like a lost man in the throes of anguish.

  He stepped toward me on a whisper. “Forgive me.”

  Two words and my shields erected. They were no ordinary shields, for they’d been welded in a fire of lies and hammered with betrayal. They’d defended me against those words only a week earlier when they’d dripped from the mouth of the last man who hurt me.

  “I will not.” I retreated, walking backward.

  “I thought you were plotting against me.” His gaze dipped to my abdomen.

  “I was.” I hugged the linen around me, hiding the scar. “I intended to seduce you and convince you I was pregnant. A ruse that would’ve only worked for a few months since I can’t conceive.” I stared at my feet, blinked slowly, and looked him straight in the eye. “Then you kissed me, and I knew…” A swallow burned in my throat. “I didn’t want to escape you.”

  Clouds of color filled the hollows beneath his cheekbones, his eyes unnaturally bright. Muscles jumped beneath his skin as he repeatedly straightened his sleeves. Fidgeting. Visibly distressed. So out of character.

  A traitorous flutter took flight in my belly, a thrill that tingled through my limbs. I flexed my hands, aching to throw myself into the arms of my captor.

  I stepped back.

  “I’m a monster.” He stayed with me, his deep, resonant voice fraying like rope. “Worse than you can imagine.”

  “No imagination needed.” I continued to withdraw, edging into the day cabin. “I can feel the burn of your latest malefaction in my backside.”

  “Yes, I hurt you.” He stalked closer. “God knows, I’ll hurt you again. I’m damned good at it.”

  Raw masculinity dominated his gait as he prowled after me into the sleeping chamber.

  He was a whore for his king. A devout adherent. A rule follower. He wasn’t a man who just took what he wanted. But right now, he wore the look of one. Bared teeth, wild eyes, unwavering steps—he projected an animal instinct, primitive and uncivilized, and the full force of it centered on me.

  “Don’t come any closer.” I held up a hand, warding him off. “Stay back.”

  “I can’t.” He kept coming. “This isn’t some fickle inclination or casual infatuation. What I feel for you isn’t sane or safe or rooted in lust.”

  My stomach tumbled as I staggered back, seeking distance and bumping into the bed. “What is it, then?”

  “It’s madness, Bennett. Ruin.” He cornered me, imprisoning me with his eyes. “You know as well as I do that this affinity, you and me, is frighteningly, magnificently, hopelessly real.”

  My heart thundered, shrieking at him for being so cruel and so irrevocably right.

  He reached for me, and I fell back, landing on the mattress with nowhere to go. His hand closed around my wrist, and I twisted, swinging a fist and missing him in a haze of panic. Then I went crazy.

  Scrambling across the bed, I snarled and kicked and hit every part of him that came near. But nothing deterred him. He caught my leg, then my waist, tackling me to the mattress and driving my heart into exhaustion. In the next breath, I was restrained beneath his substantial bulk with my arms pinned to my sides.

  Was the coverlet still wrapped around me? A thin drape of linen wouldn’t protect me from him, anyway. At that thought, I renewed my struggling, desperate to escape before he forced my legs apart and violated me again.

  But he didn’t attack. His arms clasped tight around my squirming, twisting, gasping body and just held me there. Hugging me.

  Searing pressure filled my throat and hit the backs of my eyes. The hoarseness of my breathing rose over the creaking in the cabin.

  His mouth went to my ear. “Shhhhh.”

  Tears invaded, inwardly, silently. But somehow, he knew. He made more hushing sounds and gathered me closer, embracing me in a cocoon of strength without crushing me.

  I didn’t know what to do with this. I didn’t trust it.

  His lips moved to my brow, lingering, softly kissing, and I didn’t know how to react to that, either. I wanted it. I wanted him to kiss me and hold me and keep me as his captive, without actually being one.

  I shouldn’t crave any of those things. I was sick. Mentally unwell. Emotionally and physically exhausted.

  I wanted to return to my ship and my life with Reynolds and Jobah.

  He shifted, trailing kisses across my eyelids, down the length of my nose, and around the corner of my mouth. Then he stared at me with a magnetism that made everything else fade into the lantern’s backlight.

  He was such a distinguished, utterly gorgeous man I never tired of looking at him. Even when he was mean. Especially then. The utter loss of control and wild passion he’d asserted on the balcony would’ve been sinfully arousing under different circumstances.

  If I hadn’t been plotting against him, and he wasn’t trying to condemn me to the hempen halter, I’d wager that we could have had a lovely relationship seeded in trust, communication, and sizzling love.

  Notwithstanding the drastic discrepancy in our social classes.

  My face gravitated to the warmth of his chest, my lips grazing the silken neckline of his open shirt. My cheek resting against the knit of bone and sinew on his sternum. My fingers sliding around his lean waist to… I only meant to touch his spine. But my hands bumped against the upper curves of his rock-hard arse.

  He stilled. I trembled. Then I surrendered to the impulse and palmed his taut, firm buttocks through the breeches.

  His body gave a slow, sinuous flex, rolling against me as he released a rumbling groan.

  “I want to start over.” The languorous grind of his hips let me feel how hard he throbbed between us. “You don’t have to forgive me. But we’re not leaving this bed until you come.”

  My scorn clung, setting my jaw. “If I say no?”

&n
bsp; “I told you.” He gripped my chin and locked our eyes. “Don’t ever say no to me.”

  His mouth came down, slanting just right and kissing me soundly. He stroked gently at first, his tongue seeking, hunting. When it finally caught mine, the touch felt like an echo of bees, and I nearly jumped from my skin.

  His lips curved against my own.

  “Is that—?” I pulled back, trying to see his expression. “Are you smiling?”

  His mouth chased, kissing me hungrily. “No.”

  The devil he wasn’t. With effort, I wrangled my arms free and grasped his jaw. I pushed. He tightened the tangle of his legs around mine but allowed the distance between our faces.

  And there, caught in the bite of his teeth, was a small, heart-melting smile that pulled so playfully at the corners. I was awestruck by the sight of it, dizzy with reverential disbelief.

  “There’s magic on your lips.” I touched them hesitantly.

  The twitching lips kissed my fingers, binding me with a supernatural spell.

  “Magic is fake.” I lowered my hand. “Love is real. What is this?”

  “It’s real.” His expression sobered, and he caught my wrist, squeezing the delicate tendons. “Do you know how I know that?”

  “It hurts.”

  “Yes. But I can give you more than pain.” He let his weight rest fully on top of me, making my blood run as hot as a fever. “Strike your colors, pirate.”

  “Never.”

  He clicked his tongue. “You hoisted your white the day we met.”

  I’d raised that damned flag in a ruse to distract him from firing upon my ship. But I couldn’t tell him that. “I won’t strike for you again.”

  His eyes lit with challenge. That look alone sent my pulse into a frenzy.

  “Ashley.” I grabbed a fistful of black hair. “Don’t even think about it.”

  Slipping from my grip, he shoved down my body.

  My lungs slammed together, and I twisted away. But Ashley quickly yanked me back by my ankle, giving me no time to counter. In a fraction of a breath, his hands spread open my thighs, and his mouth covered the juncture between.

  Everything ceased to exist, the distant waves a mere echo of the world around me. All that I knew, all that I felt was the hot caress of lips and the tongue that stroked, dipping inside, licking circles, and teasing all the sensitive edges.

  Sublime torture.

  “Not fair.” I moaned loudly, shakily, rocking against each annihilating kiss.

  I wasn’t impervious to radiant heat. Nor was I resistant to the destruction of storms. I was only human. A lusty one by most standards, but a mortal, nonetheless. I had no defenses against the whims of a god.

  “I’m still…” Aching. Heaven and Hell, I ached for this man beyond reason.

  “Still what?” His tongue slid upon me in divine torment.

  “Still angry.” I dragged in air, trembling. “I’m not striking. Not forgiving. Notahahahhhh!”

  His mouth plundered, ravaged, and buried itself voraciously. When his fingers joined in and impaled me to the knuckles, I grabbed his hair and cried out. My back arched, and I flexed my hips wantonly, recklessly, beneath the scorching lashes that tore me asunder. I couldn’t be still or quiet, too lost in the delirium of pleasure as he claimed another piece of me.

  It was far too late to turn back. He’d already scaled my bow and flung me into a sea of pure ecstasy. Hot shimmering sparks burst through me, spasming my insides as I rode his sinful mouth through the torrential waves of orgasm.

  Eventually, my shallow breaths lengthened and slowed, finding a safer tempo, and reality crept back in.

  “How did you learn how to do that?” I sagged on the bed, dissolving into lethargy.

  “Practice.” He sat back on his heels and pulled off his shirt. “Before I joined the Royal Navy, I had more free time, in which I spent beneath the local girls’ skirts.”

  “Those poor maidens.” My gaze ate up his sculpted chest, my skin heating anew. “Their virtues didn’t stand a chance with the likes of you.”

  “I heard no complaints,” he murmured, his eyes glinting with triumph. “None from you, either.”

  “A lopsided victory.” I straightened the coverlet, where it draped around my torso. “You disarmed me unjustly and usurped the advantage.”

  “On the contrary, Goldilocks. It is me who has been put at a disadvantage for a week and counting.” His hand curved around my breast and smoothed down my stomach, drawing back the coverlet to bare me fully. “Your beauty affects a man like potent wine. When I look at you, I’m drugged.”

  He lowered his head and brushed his lips across my scar. My breath hitched, and my legs quivered around his waist.

  “When I lick you…” His tongue trailed a wandering path to my chest. “Taste you…” He drew my nipple between his lips, sucking. “Kiss you…” His mouth returned to capture mine, delving deeply with sweet, languid strokes. “You make my head spin as though I’m drinking from the unholy grail.”

  “Unholy?”

  “Filled to the brim with sin. I want to consume every drop.”

  He set out to do just that, eating at my mouth with an unhealthy obsession. I tasted myself on his tongue, the sharp tang of arousal mixed with the clean mintiness of his breath.

  “Do you forgive me?” He suckled my lips.

  “No.”

  With an ominous gleam in his eyes, he ducked his head to lave gentle caresses beneath my ear and along my throat, descending slowly across my chest.

  Hard, contoured muscle glided against me as he moved downward, his tongue making whorls on my aureole. I sighed, and he lingered, the heat of his body pressing along my legs, stretching and swelling behind the laces on his breeches.

  My hands twined through the silky strands of his hair as his mouth made love to every inch of me. Roving down one leg and up the other, there wasn’t a curve or dip neglected by his tongue.

  “Life hasn’t been kind to you.” He was at my scar again, kissing the sad relic with reverence.

  “Life isn’t kind to anyone. Not even my father, who always seemed so untouchable and free.”

  “He was a lucky man to have the unconditional love of a daughter.”

  Something I’ll never have.

  Watching him stare at my scar, I knew he was thinking the same thing. Even if he decided to somehow look past my rank as a plebeian and criminal, I would never be able to give him heirs.

  The odds were stacked so thoroughly against us there was nothing I could do to change our destinies. But I could enjoy the moment. Right here. Right now.

  “Ashley.” I waited for his gaze to lift. “You’ve seen all of me. Every scar. Every freckle. It’s my turn to look.” I gave him a nudge with my knee. “Take off your breeches.”

  “Tell me you forgive me.”

  “If you do this for me, I’ll think about it.”

  The corner of his mouth curved into a delectable half-smile. He leaned up, smacked a hard kiss onto my lips, and rose from the bed.

  My gaze followed his hands to the row of laces beneath the defined ridges of his abdomen. As he opened the front flap, I pushed up onto my hip, mesmerized.

  The long, bulging outline of him twitched visibly beneath the fabric, thumping against his thigh as if attempting to get out. My mouth salivated for a taste, and I shivered. No sane woman would willingly stretch her lips around that beast.

  But I wanted it. Desperately.

  Finished with the laces, he met my eyes and shoved down the breeches. His bent posture momentarily blocked my view. When he straightened, he lowered his arms, stark naked, and regarded me with an arched brow.

  His hair was indecently tousled by my fingers. His teeth caught the corner of his bottom lip, accentuating his innocent-looking face. But there was nothing chaste about the superior breeding that hung between his legs.

  The most impressive cock known to man jutted outward, hard and swollen with veins. It was too heavy to rise upward, though
it tried. Christ almighty, he was sinful. Gorgeous. Insanely, powerfully built from head to toe. He looked good enough to eat.

  I shifted to the edge of the mattress and sat nude before him with my feet on the floor. Without preamble, I slid my fingers along his length, stroking lightly. His breathing grew, fast and shallow, speeding up my pulse.

  Another stroke and his hands flew to my tangled mop of curls. He gave my head a slight pull, asking for my mouth, not demanding it. That was a nice change.

  I lowered to the deck and knelt before him.

  “Wait.” He lifted me to wedge a pillow beneath my legs, his hands trembling violently as they returned to my hair.

  “Has anyone ever done this for you?”

  “It’s been a very long time.” He closed his eyes, his expression taut.

  “How long?”

  “Two years.”

  “Since you’ve had any sexual relations?”

  “Yes.” He bit out the syllable, jaw clenched.

  I thrilled at the thought. It empowered me, made me ravenous, perhaps because I despised the idea of anyone else touching him.

  Lowering my hand to his heavy testicles, I fondled the smooth skin and set the flat of my tongue against his broad crown. A deep masculine groan vibrated the air, low and continuous, as I painted a long, wet lick from the plump tip to the thick base.

  Tremors shook his legs. Blue eyes burned down at me, and he shored up his grip on my hair. Dear lord, he was beautiful.

  Scattering caution to the wind, I drew the head of him into my mouth. He pressed in, forcing my tongue and teeth to make room. When he hit the back of my throat, I swallowed, breathed through it, and began to suck.

  “Bennnnnnett! Goddamn!” Grunts plummeted from his mouth. His chest heaved. His fingers clenched, and he couldn’t control the thrust of his hips.

  I rolled with it, slurping and swallowing as much length as I could. I fed on him so greedily I would question my sanity later.

  As the first pearls of his seed slid over my tongue, I lapped him up and sucked harder, faster, drawing more salty essence from his leaking tip. My palms traveled up the backs of his thighs and clutched his firm arse. Then I pulled him deeper into my mouth, licking along his shaft.