Tossing the ring aside, he braced himself over her on his hands as the heavy stone clanked against the wall. “By God, he did. And by the time I’m done with you, you’ll know it, too.”
The wind was knocked from her as he swiftly grasped her shoulders and turned her onto her belly. She clutched at the coverlet as the dagger kissed the back of her neck, tracking a slow path down her spine. Her chest swelled, and she took in great gulps of air as he cut through the ribbons of her stays, the garment falling open to ease its restriction on her waist. She hardly had time to adjust to the swift change before he was turning her back over, snatching the undergarment free of her arms and hurling it off the side of the bed.
The warm air seeping through her shift reminded her of her hidden secret, and Arabella pressed a hand to her chest.
“Wait, I …”
“No,” he snapped, tearing her hand away and pressing it to the bed. “No more waiting.”
His other hand grasped the neckline of her shift and he pulled, rending the garment as if it were made of paper. She kept her gaze upon his face as he discovered what she hid between her breasts, his hardened expression melting into one of astonishment. Releasing her wrist, he plucked the little circle of wood from her body, leaving behind an angry red circle. She’d had it pressed against her for so long that the imprint of the lion’s face had been left behind, nearly a mirror image for the one etched on his own skin.
He held the talisman up and studied it, his jaw working as if he ground his teeth, his eyes flashing with emotion she doubted he would want anyone to see.
“Bella,” he whispered, his voice thick and heavy as he shifted his stare from the talisman to her.
She gave him a shaky smile and reached up to touch his face. This time, he allowed it, leaning his jaw into her palm with a tortured sigh.
“I told you, I was never his. I was always yours, Drew. Even when I thought you were dead … I’ve always been yours.”
With a low groan, he kissed her palm, then trailed his tongue along the inside of her middle finger. He opened his mouth to envelope that finger, sucking it deep into his warm mouth. Then, he pressed the talisman to her palm and closed her fingers around it. She clung tight to the wood as he lowered his head and claimed her mouth with unrestrained hunger.
He smothered her gasp of surprise and delight with his tongue, plunging it between her lips without the gentle whisper of a prelude. Drew was consuming her, sucking and biting at her lower lip, rubbing his tongue against hers.
Strong hands gripped her shift, finishing the rip in the fabric and pulling it apart, baring her body to him. His eyes glittered like brilliant gold as he looked at her, his gaze stroking over the mounds of her naked breasts, the nipples puckering without so much as the touch of his hand. He nudged his way between her stockinged legs, and slipped one hand beneath her to cup her buttocks. He arched her up against him, pressing the hard, hot ridge of his cock against her mound. She whimpered, her clit pulsing in response to the light pressure, the promise of more.
“I’m going to fuck you, Bella, and I don’t have it in me to be gentle. Not this time. Maybe not ever.”
She wrapped her legs around his hips and deepened the arch of her back, pressing tighter against him and sending flutters of pure pleasure through her core. It seemed that her every nerve ending had come alive now that she was in his arms again. It didn’t matter if he was gentle like a lover or cruel like a conquering pirate. She wanted him as he was now, alive and hers.
“I don’t care.”
He fell on her again, stretching her wrists over her head and retrieving the cord he’d used to lash her to the bed. He tied her there now, securing her hands and leaving her at his mercy. Then, he cupped her breasts, squeezing until she squirmed, the touch both pleasurable and painful.
“Mine,” he rasped, pinching her nipples until she cried out, then lowering his head to lap at them. “All mine.”
“Yes!” she cried as he clenched a nipple between his teeth, tugging and licking and sending liquid heat melting through her.
He kissed his way up her chest, his tongue stroking hotly over the brand of the lion against her sternum, then up toward her neck. She squirmed beneath him, the cords biting into her wrists and her arms aching as she fought against her bonds. What she wouldn’t give to touch him and hold him, exploring the familiar body changed by time and labor. But he was as merciless a lover as he was a giving one, keeping her bound and interspersing sharp bites of his teeth with warm flicks of his tongue. His sucking lips were sure to leave bruises, the marks of his possession that would linger long after he finished with her.
Time had changed nothing, except, perhaps, the intensity and hardness of the man on top of her. But he still knew where to touch and kiss her, playing her body like an instrument he’d set down but then picked back up as if he’d never left it. She panted against his shoulder as he reached down to unfasten his breeches, pressing open-mouth kisses anywhere her mouth touched, needing to feel and taste him in any way possible. He bent his neck to offer himself, deep moans echoing in his throat as she nibbled and licked, then bit his shoulder. A heavy hand fell on the inside of one thigh, pushing her apart, spreading her wider. Then, he was fisting his cock, stroking it in long pulls as he angled it between her legs.
She gazed down as he knelt up and took hold of her waist, pulling her into position. Arabella trembled at the sight of his cock poised to enter her, swollen and intimidating, as relentless as the man it belonged to. He pressed against her opening, hissing through his bared teeth to find her soaking wet. He pushed against her with probing movements, nudging against her clit. His grip on her waist tightened enough to leave fingerprints, his entire body coiling tight, his gaze blazing hot and locked with hers. His face contorted with animalistic ferocity as he drew back and then surged his hips, tearing into her with his cock.
Arabella wailed, her legs snapping closed around his hips on instinct, but it was far too late to stop the progress of the iron-hard organ ripping its way through her. He stayed there for a long moment, lowering his head and sucking in deep breaths as if to compose himself. She could feel the rush of blood in his cock, the pulsing veins throbbing in time with the painful spasms undulating through her insides. He wrenched her thighs open and drove deeper with a muttered oath, giving her the rest of him, lodging himself so deep he felt like some irremovable part of her now. His hands pressed harder against her thighs, the joints of her hips twinging from the deep, forceful stretch, her sheath throbbing and grasping at him.
He gasped with something like shock mixed with wonder, the corded tendons of his neck stretching taut as he held himself over her, his arms trembling. He withdrew and then plunged, the heated drag of his cock against her inner walls burning like nothing she’d ever felt. She bit her lip until she drew blood to contain a scream, but Drew was in another place entirely. Sweat broke out along his brow as he did it again, then again, rotating his hips and surging even deeper into her. The press of his groin agitated her clit, adding a swell of pleasure to his thrusts, leaving her suspended between ecstasy and agony.
“Fucking Christ,” he groaned. “Bella …”
She whimpered in response, her body jolted with every hard thrust of him inside her. The lion tattooed onto his chest undulated with every movement, the beast seeming to come alive as he fucked her in a mindless fit. He palmed her buttocks again, raising her up against him and grinding into her, as if trying to burrow even deeper. The little nub of her pleasure pounded and pulsed, her cunt wet and slick and easing to let him in. The burning torment of his invasion tangled with the pleasure until she couldn’t tell one from the other—couldn’t determine whether her wanton moans were those of delight or those of torment. It didn’t matter. He was inside her, taking her, claiming her. He was hers now in a way he never had been before, and she wouldn’t have wanted the loss of her maidenhead to happen differently or with anyone else. She reveled in his ruthless domination, surrendered to the clench o
f the cord lashing her to the headboard, to his hands holding her at the angle he wanted, to his cock drilling its way through her and stroking her toward a stunning climax even in the midst of the pain.
“Drew!” she cried, her insides erupting into a maelstrom of impending release. “Oh, God, Drew!”
“Yes, Bella,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. “Say my name … let me hear how much you love the feel of my cock inside you … let them all hear.”
She faintly recalled the open windows and the proximity of the crew above them, but couldn’t find it within herself to care. She wasn’t a proper lady in here.
She was woman, he was man, and in the throes of such powerful, primal lust, there was nothing to do but surrender to her baser nature.
“Drew … Drew … Drew,” she chanted with every thrust of his cock, every spasm of climax building on top of the last.
She unraveled beneath him, so lost in the haze of her own completion that she didn’t realize his was upon him, too, until one of his hands came crashing against the headboard. He roared his release, gripping tight to the golden figurehead of the lion as his cock twitched and pulsed within her, flooding her insides with the hot rush of his seed.
He fell on top of her in a boneless heap, though he did manage to reach up and untie her hands. She groaned as the blood began rushing into her limbs, letting them drift back down to her sides as he curled himself around her, gathering her in his arms. Still buried deep within her, he nuzzled her neck and shoulder, his rough beard abrading the tender skin.
She returned the affection, turning her head to seek out his lips. He kissed her with as much ferocity as ever, his cock leaping within her as if trying to surge back to life. As she surrendered to his consuming lips and plundering tongue, she felt the slide of his hand along her arm, toward the tightly closed fist holding fast to his talisman. Prying her fingers apart, he laid his palm against hers, the unyielding hardness of the talisman held tight between them.
Chapter 6
Arabella held the crisp, cool bedsheet over her naked breasts as she watched Drew’s ministrations at the washstand. After disengaging from her body, he had retreated there and returned with a wet cloth, which he had used to clean between her legs. Even that slight touch had hurt, the linen coming away stained pink with the evidence of their coupling. As she watched him dispose of it and take up a clean one for himself, she thought of the wedding night she was supposed to have had with William and their interrupted nuptials. Sparing a quick glance for the ring discarded in the corner of the cabin, she decided she was glad Drew had put a stop to the wedding. Marrying Will had never felt right to her, even up to the moment she’d been ready to say ‘I will.’ What had happened between them in this bed felt right in all its rawness and brutality.
She drank her fill of his body—now completely bared once he’d removed his breeches and stockings in order to wash. He was even more gloriously beautiful than she remembered, his torso and arms burnished to a beautiful bronze by the sun, his limbs long and thick with sinewy muscle. The sunlight streaming through the cabin windows brought the golden strands mingled with his dark hair to life, making him look more like a lion than ever.
Arabella frowned as she studied his broad back, his hair doing little to hide what she’d first noticed when he had crossed the room away from her. Long, raised scars traversed the expanse of his shoulders, angry and prominent. Her gut twisted at the evidence that someone had taken a whip to him.
“Drew,” she said, keeping her voice low lest she disturb the tenuous peace that seemed to have settled between them. It wouldn’t last the day—she knew that. There was still too much to be said, too many truths to be unearthed and shared before they could move forward.
He turned to face her while using a clean bit of toweling to wipe the remnants of water and shaving soap from his sharp jaw. He’d taken the time to shave after washing, revealing every inch of the devastatingly handsome face, with its contoured cheekbones and plush mouth.
“Yes?”
She paused as he approached the bed, her palms going damp as she caught sight of his cock, which bobbed between his thighs, half-hard and menacing. Tearing her gaze away, she forced herself to adhere to the matter at hand. If Drew wanted to take her again, she’d do best to clear the air first, before they both became distracted.
He sprawled on the bed beside her and stretched with a deep groan, then rubbed a hand over the dark ink etched into his chest.
“Bella,” he prodded.
Clearing her throat, she turned to face him, one hand still holding tight to the sheet over her chest. “Won’t you tell me what happened to you? Not long after your letters stopped coming, we received word that the HMS Hannibal was lost. Where have you been?”
He folded his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling as he spoke. “The Hannibal was, in fact lost … but not in a storm. There was a mutiny, and she was set aflame and sunk.”
“Goodness,” she murmured.
“By me,” he added, staring at her from the corners of his eyes. “Me and Rory … the Irishman you met when you boarded the ship.”
Her mouth dropped open as she looked for any sign that he was lying or joking. She found none.
“You have to understand that life on a Royal Navy vessel isn’t the glorious adventure you might think,” he said, his voice taking on a biting edge. “Not even for a man who goes aboard one of those ships willingly. For a quadroon who had been impressed … well, let’s just say a trip to Hell would have been preferable.”
“I remember your letters, the few we received. You mentioned being half-starved from meager rations and sleeping in quarters that were either cold or stifling hot and always damp. I wept for you, Drew. I hated to know you were suffering with no way out.”
“I could only have been set free from my term of service when our ship finished its campaign. I counted the days and weeks, and told myself I could survive it. I had to survive it, so I that I could come back home, back to you.”
“I would have waited,” she told him, with every ounce of earnestness in her body. “I was willing to wait as long as it took.”
Drew squeezed his eyes shut as if pained and shook his head. “The commander of the Hannibal … he was a particularly cruel and exacting master. His standards were impossible to maintain, and his punishments were severe. He was skilled with the cat o’ nine tails and used any excuse to wield them.”
Arabella pressed a hand to her mouth, feeling as if she’d be ill. “The scars on your back.”
“Courtesy of Captain Manning,” he spat. “The man seemed to take particular joy in abusing the lowest of his crew, and I was certainly considered below his regard. I was too angry over my impressment, too resentful of my place in the navy—something I never asked for or wanted. He took it upon himself to try to beat the defiance out of me. He and the other officers … they made our lives hell. Within the first year of mine and Rory’s service, rumblings of discontent began sweeping through the crew. We were starving while the commander and his men ate like royalty every night. We were harshly punished for the smallest transgressions, and some of the officers … they were not averse to using the weakest of us for sport when their need for a woman after a long time at sea grew too strong to ignore. There were boys on board and … and one of the officers had unnatural urges toward them. The captain’s cabin boy threw himself into the sea rather than suffer such torment any longer.”
Arabella gasped, tears springing to her eyes at the horrors of his tale, the unimaginable suffering he had endured. “Did such things happen to you? Did those men …”
Drew shook his head with a disgusted snort. “No, but it was a near thing. One of them caught me unawares with a blow to the head. By then, I was weak from lack of a proper diet and had just suffered yet another taste of the cat o’ nines. They had nearly succeeded in breaking me, but when that officer attempted to make use of me, something within me broke. I was done cowering and simply keeping my head
down so I could survive. I attacked him in a rage, though I cannot tell you where I found the strength. It was as if some demon had taken possession of my body—one that would rather kill that man or die trying rather than lie there and let him defile me.”
His eyes took on a glassy quality, his voice low and steady as if he detached himself from his own words. She edged closer to him on the bed, reaching out to touch his chest, though he hardly seemed to notice. The skin marked by the lion tattoo was slightly raised and rougher than the rest of him.
“Another officer walked in just as I finished strangling his comrade. He attacked me, attempting to slit my throat. That’s where this came from.”
He traced his fingertip along the scar on his throat, confirming her suspicion about how he’d gotten it.
“He would have succeeded if Rory hadn’t happened upon us. He wrestled the second officer off me and snapped his neck. From there, the carnage spread like wildfire. The other seamen rose up with us, attacking the officers and imprisoning the captain in his quarters. We slew more than half of them and imprisoned the rest, chaining them together and throwing them into the bilge. We dragged the captain out onto the quarterdeck and stripped him naked, giving him a taste of what he so readily dished out to us. We took turn lashing him with his precious cat o’ nines, until not an inch of his skin went unpunished. Then, we strung him up to the mainmast and left him there until he died.”
“My God,” she whispered, hot tears wetting her face.
He turned to look at her then, his expression hardening. “I won’t lie to you or try to soften the reality of what I’ve become. The officer was only the first in a string of men I’ve murdered. I am not who I was when you knew me, Bella, and I never will be again.”
She swiped at her wet face and took a shaky breath. “Tell me the rest. I want to know all of it.”
He nodded, reaching down to pluck her hand from his chest. He kissed her palm, then the faint abrasions left from being tied to the headboard. His breath tickled her skin as he went on.
Pirates, Passion and Plunder Page 8