“I dropped it a ways back,” she relented, lying as well as she ever did. “Take me back, and I will give it to you.”
“Oh, you dropped it to be sure.” He knew full well where she had hidden it but was not about to pass up such a perfect opportunity. “And I will find it.” He pushed her dress higher up her thighs. “Then I will take it…all of it.”
Despite her half-hearted protests, he pulled off her drawers, may she never wear them again, and spread her legs with his thighs, not quickly but slowly, drawing it out. He had reenacted this moment far too often in his mind, not to do it precisely as he had back then. Not by the river but in the privacy of a hideaway he had found in the woods.
Just as she did then, her cheek flamed and her breathing grew ragged.
“Do you remember?” he murmured enjoying the sight of her dress riding further up still, at last giving him what had been gone from him for so long. “Do you remember what I did to you, my little tease?”
“You are a rogue,” she breathed. Her eyes slid shut as he ran his hands up her thighs. As he cherished her soft flesh.
“Yes,” he growled and pushed the chair back. He fell to his knees between her legs. “And hungry.”
“How dare—”
He spread her soft folds and licked the length of her, turning her protest into a long, throaty moan. She tasted as sweet now as she did then, her response to him just as it always was. He continued licking and tasting, lost in her, consuming juices he had longed to have on his tongue since the moment he left Yorktown all those years ago.
Fortunately, he’d planned ahead with this and had someone keeping watch outside because as he knew would happen, he became solely aware of her. Anyone could slip in and slit his throat because he was so lost in having her like this again. Devouring the endless stream of moisture she provided. He closed his eyes and groaned along with her when he slid first one then two fingers into her tight sheath. Though married briefly, she was as snug as a virgin.
So he pressed a third finger in.
His gaze drifted to her lovely face as she bit her lower lip, her head fell back, and she tried to arch. When her groans grew louder, he again thanked his forward-thinking that sounds of erotic pleasure were supposed to come from a brothel.
While tempted to draw this out, something he would most assuredly do in the future, his poor cock could not handle much more. So he thrust and curled his fingers deeper while suckling the nub at the apex of her pleasure.
Moments later, she cried out, shuddered then began milking his fingers.
He gave her time to catch her breath but not too long before he wrapped his hand in her hair and forced her eyes to meet his gaze.
“You remember what comes next, right?” He stood and freed himself. “My turn.”
Chapter 5
Though she should be appalled by Luke’s rash actions, his sheer audacity, deep down, she was not. If anything—just as she had all those years ago—she lost herself in the freedom his control brought.
Still trembling from the tremendous pleasure he wrung from her, she was wholly aware the door had been left open. Not just Abigail but others passed by, even lingered for the show if only briefly. She could see them out of the corner of her eye, but for a moment before her sole focus was on him again.
“Do you remember what to do?” he said softly, his heavy member inches from her face. “Do you remember how I like it?”
How often had she envisioned his cock over the years? Its admirable thickness and perfect length? Her traitorous tongue had a mind of its own, and she licked her lips before she could stop herself.
“Ah, so you do.” He wrapped his hand a little tighter in her hair and steered her mouth just a smidge closer, teasing her. “And what of my taste? Do you recall it as vividly as I did yours?”
Her gaze fell to the moisture pearling at the tip, and she licked her lips again, remembering it all too well. Wanting it despite the fact she should bite him rather than sample him. But they both knew that would not happen as he ordered her to stick out and flatten her tongue. She did as ordered and welcomed the heat of his cock's bulbous head as he rubbed his salty seed across it.
His breathing grew ragged as he pressed it past her lips ever-so-slowly, then further still. She closed her eyes and squirmed as her arousal flared to life again. He tightened his hold on her hair, signaling that she do as he’d taught her. She obediently twirled her tongue once, twice, sucked hard then relaxed her throat as he bent her head back.
She held her breath and nearly climaxed again as he inch by inch forced his cock down her throat, issuing a low, hoarse rumble of approval. “Even the wenches cannot take me so deep.”
While the lewd comment should have upset her, it only lent to her excitement, and he knew it. After that, it was all a blur of ecstasy as his hold on her tightened to that exquisite point of pain and pleasure that she craved. When she could, she rolled her tongue, sucked and moaned for his added sensation, but he had his way more often than not.
“Bloody hell I missed you,” he grunted before he dug both hands in her hair, thrust one last time then issued the strangled, masculine groan of release she had so missed. Eager, taking all he had to offer, she greedily drank down every last hot drop.
He watched her avidly, expecting her to clean him well before he eventually pulled free and tucked his cock away in his breeches.
“I think she’d be better off here, love,” Abigail called out in passing. “Servicin’ a bloke that well she’d make a pretty pence!”
“She’ll not be servicing anyone but me,” he said softly, speaking solely to Hannah. Rather than pull her skirt down, he left her exposed for his pleasure, sat on the bed and examined the brooch. “It really is unexceptional, isn’t it?”
Blast it, when had he pilfered that off her?
“You forget I taught you where to hide things quickly,” he murmured, a sly twinkle in his eyes as they met hers. “And I remember how well you get distracted with my mouth between your thighs.”
She snapped her thighs shut and glanced at the waistline of her dress where she had tucked the brooch. An easy enough ‘find and take’ to be sure.
“Untie me then.” She shrugged. “For where will I go now without proof Big Devil need not pursue my sister?”
“It would take but an accusation that I have it to send Big Devil’s rats this way.” He peered out the window. “Once I have confirmation he and his crew have left, we will follow.”
“Meanwhile, as we sneak about like cowards in the night,” she said, “my sister and your brother’s lives are on the line.”
“Your conscience seemed clear enough moments ago,” he said dryly, raking his eyes over her. “In fact, I would hazard to guess your sibling’s safety was the very last thing on your mind.”
“You bastard.”
“If only,” he muttered, referring to his father. He untied her in passing, doing it so smoothly she knew he’d had plenty of practice over the years. “’Twas best we kept you two apart.”
“Why?”
“To increase the odds of one of you surviving,” he said frankly, giving her a clearer picture of what they were up against. “Thomas is a better fighter at sea, so he was to lure Big Devil off the island.” He shrugged a lazy shoulder. “I am the better fighter on land, so I stayed back to assess what was left in his wake.”
“And what would be left in his wake?”
“Mayhap more of Big Devil’s rats looking for a certain brooch,” he said. “My mission is to clean up any problems left behind, see that no rumors linger, and then follow Thomas.”
“You mean to leave no trace of yourself in all this,” she said, quick to figure it out. “Big Devil would not share his knowledge of the brooch, so chances are good you and your brother are in the clear.” She gave a relenting nod. “But one never knows.”
“A lesson I learned before I ever took to pirating,” he said, his tone dry again, his pointed eyes on her as she adjusted her dress. “But
yes, it is important that Blackbeard never know of our involvement and hopefully never know about the brooch itself.”
“One has to wonder why you felt the need to mention its value to begin with when you were writing me.” She smoothed her tousled hair. “I thought it foolish at the time.” She perked her brows at him. “Now look at the mess it has gotten us into.”
“You mean the mess you got us into by keeping the letters in the first place,” he reminded. “Whether the brooch is with me or Thomas matters little in the end, but as with all things when it comes to you, you act without thinking.”
“I would say saving my sister is thinking soundly,” she snapped, standing. “Had you allowed me to give the brooch to Big Devil, this matter would be settled.”
“Are you that naive then?” He shook his head. “Not only would Big Devil have had the bauble, but he and his rats would have still pursued your sister. No doubt with dire consequences to her chastity stuck on a ship such as theirs.” His brows swept up. “As for you, you would no longer have the unthinkable life as a wench tied to a bed but the living nightmare of being Big Devil’s pet.”
The way he said it, the darkness in his eyes, told her Luke had dealt with that nightmare firsthand. And there was only one way that would have happened.
“You already saved someone from him, didn’t you?” she said softly.
Luke might be a lot of things, but he had his fair share of good qualities too. In her case—and likely the women here based on how they looked at him—saving broken creatures in need. Because though Hannah had always seemed strong to the world, only he knew how close she had come to breaking.
“All that matters is that Big Devil and I have history,” he replied, staying true to the man he had always been. He would not share what happened to the woman any more than he would ever share with others what had happened to Hannah. How her abuse morphed her into something that was not accepted in decent society.
That was the main reason she had turned from him all those years ago. So that he might fight Queen Anne’s War and then find a less twisted soul to settle down with.
“There’s grub out back.” Abigail leaned her hip against the threshold. “Ye should eat before trouble comes callin’, aye?”
“Aye.” He nodded then eyed the wench, his crisp British accent reverting back to the pirate drawl he had developed. “Ye’ve everything ye need if they come?”
“Thanks to ye, love.” If Hannah were not mistaken, Abigail’s eyes grew misty as they lingered on Luke. “Now come fill yer bellies already.”
She sauntered away, yelling at anyone listening that they best get their grub before it was gone.
“She seems fond of you.” Hannah watched him closely, trying to understand this life, who he was now.
“Come, let’s eat.” Offering no comment about it, he pulled her after him. “It will likely be a long night.”
They had no sooner left the room when a man nearly as tall as Luke ducked through the entranceway. Maybe somewhere in his early forties, he had a lithe, muscular frame, and more tattoos than not. His hard gaze raked over her boldly before he grunted with approval, then looked at Luke. “No sign of ‘em yet, Cap’n but that means nothin.’”
“Hannah, this is my quartermaster, Robert,” Luke said in introduction. “Like myself, former privateer for Queen and country.”
“Actually, if I remember correctly you were Royal Navy first,” she pointed out, earning herself a less-than-impressed look from both men. She knew Luke’s patriotism had swiftly turned to opportunism under the poor conditions navy men suffered. After his allegiances switched from England to his current ill reputed sea brethren, she knew less and less.
After all, it was around that time that their letters took on a different slant.
One that had very little to do with day to day activities.
One that could very well land her in more precarious positions than merely being tied to a chair. Unfortunately, Robert’s next statement only confirmed that.
Chapter 6
“Rings?” Hannah seethed out of the corner of her mouth at the table, thinking herself discreet when she was anything but. “Ropes?”
He grinned and winked, glad she knew what to expect. While he had wanted to see the shock on her face when she saw the contraptions in his cabin, her response now was just as gratifying. More so, that she would both dread and anticipate it all the while.
“Sounds like ye’ll be gettin’ a good plow through rough seas with this one.” Remmy, a petite little wench with a warm smile that rarely met her hardened eyes, chortled and nodded with approval at Luke. “I’m sure ye’ll weather the storm just fine though, Cap’n.”
“As he always does,” Robert praised.
“You have used those devices before then, Luke?” Hannah said curtly, barely touching her food. She shook her head sharply. “But of course you have.”
Actually, he hadn’t, but she need not know that, and he shot his quartermaster a look that said it best stay that way. Better that Hannah think she was just next in line. One amongst many. Mostly because as he had hoped, it drove her to distraction. She might be sitting so straight her spine appeared ready to snap, but her legs tapped something fierce under the table. He knew why too.
She had written about those rings.
She had also written about those ropes.
Which meant to her way of thinking, he had used other women in her fantasies. Something he knew full well—because he knew Hannah—belonged to her and her alone.
At least when it came to him.
Luke clamped his hand down on her thigh and gave her the stern look that forced her still. He was beyond pleased that she still responded so obediently to him. That he could push past her defiance and force her to his will. But then that’s what she liked despite what she showed the world. That’s what she craved. Needed. And hell, giving it to her felt as essential as breathing. How had he gone so long without this feeling? A distinct feeling only she could provide.
A feeling that had nearly brought him to his knees when she serviced him.
It was not just her untouchable talent taking a cock deep down her throat, but the power she provided him with her subservience. Control, despite his lifestyle and literally being in charge of his own ship, only Hannah could afford. He knew it had to do with them discovering their baser natures with one another when they were young, but sensed it went further too. Deeper.
Perhaps, he mused, simply because he had never actually lain with her.
Perhaps his unique desire for her was just that. Need for the unknown. Yet as he ate and watched her out of the corner of his eye, he knew it was something beyond the flesh. Something he refused to utter ever again but had stayed with him over the years despite his need to do away with it.
“Ah, but to love.” Abigail raised her mug in salute and winked at Luke though she spoke to Remmy. “Might it find us and ne’er let us go, aye?”
“Aye,” everyone agreed, raising their mugs.
When Hannah looked at Luke, then Remmy in question, he explained.
“Remmy’s fixin’ to marry herself a pirate.” He grinned and nodded at Remmy. “Wishin’ ye the very best, my friend.”
“Aye, Cap’n, ‘twill be a nice change just spreadin’ my legs for the one.”
“You’re marrying a pirate?” Appalled, Hannah’s eyes rounded on the wench. “Why would anyone in their right mind do such a thing?”
“Because he means to put food in my mouth, poppet,” Remmy stated bluntly, not offended in the least. She shrugged. “Plus he ain’t a bad lookin’ bloke.” She offered a cheeky grin. “Still has some teeth too.” She peered at Hannah. “But then I don’t imagine ye care much about teeth or where ye’re next bit o’ food’s comin’ from, aye, lovely?”
While he fully expected Hannah to dish out a scathing response, she remained silent. He suspected he knew why too. Times had grown difficult toward the end for her and her sister in Virginia. Their uncle had treated
his business partners too poorly for too long, and in the end, everything fell apart. They lost their tobacco plantation, the bulk of their wealth and had to flee.
That, one way or another, ultimately landed her here.
“So ye would not marry a pirate, eh?” Abigail considered Hannah, her eyes wise beyond her years. “Not even the one beside ye?”
Hannah tensed. Good, she should.
“She might not be willing to marry a pirate,” Luke commented. “But she would marry an English boy with little to his name.” Before she could respond, he snapped his fingers and shook his head as though just remembering something. “Wait, I have that wrong.” He shrugged, nonplussed. “She would agree to marry but ultimately turn him away.”
The room grew quiet, and the rain louder before Abigail broke the silence. “Well, I, for one, would marry a pirate.” She nodded once at Luke. “And rest assured, lad, I would have married the English boy as well.” She shook his head. “’Tis a fool poppet that turns away the likes of ye.”
“I always thought so.” He ignored Hannah’s stiffening posture. “But then in hindsight, she did me a favor.” He gestured with appreciation at the wenches sitting about. “I would have never enjoyed the likes of ye and yer numerous and much appreciated talents.”
Robert raised his mug to that.
Hannah, however, lashed out with the unexpected. “And here I thought nobody could take you as deep as I could.”
Abigail chuckled and applauded Hannah. “There ye are, love.” She bypassed the awkwardness and saw things straight. “Keep talkin’ like that and ye’ll be fit for life with a pirate all right!”
She was about to say more when one of his men entered, breathless. “As we’d hoped, troubles afoot, Cap’n.” He gestured south. “Somethin’s skulking around out there.”
Hannah's eyes widened in confusion. “As you hoped?”
He ignored her and spoke to his man. “More than one somethin’?”
He nodded. “I’d say.”
Pirates, Passion and Plunder Page 46