Breaking Bad: 14 Tales of Lawless Love

by Koko Brown

  “I may be a pirate but I like my luxuries,” she confessed. “I have clean linen rags, a couple of sponges from a trade with a fisherman and even a bar of soap from your fair England. I particularly like the lavender.” Unable to resist, she picked up one of the sleeves and sniffed. Feeling like she was talking to the wind, she glanced up.

  Still cupping his cock, he’d edged closer, practically towering over her. His eyes stole over the large basin like a man starving, and the pan had become a slow-roasted dungpo pork.

  “Water’s warm?”

  Seeing the fish on the hook, she nodded. “Not long from the coals.”

  He didn’t say anything for the longest, but she imagined she could hear a smile.

  “Wash rag and soap,” he finally requested.

  With a smile, she handed him both. At the last minute he pulled his hand back.

  “The catch?”

  Lèsè opened her mouth to dissuade him of the notion but thought better of it. “I only require one thing—that I be allowed to watch.”

  His gaze dropped to the washbasin and lingered. Again, a pregnant pause fell between them like a brick wall. “You may watch but not touch.”

  “You’re no fun,” she pouted prettily yet not feeling the least bit put out. After all, he’d granted her a boon. Gloating, she spun about. Considering the bed held the most advantageous view, she walked over to the bed. With exaggerated purpose, she tucked her hands behind her head and crossed her feet at the ankles.

  “Comfortable?” he bellyached.

  “Quite,” she purred, digging her shoulder blades into the silk bedcovering.

  “And the view is to your liking?”

  “Far better than the bed,” she readily confessed. “As you Englishmen would say, “You cut a fine figure, Mr. Flynn. Very fine indeed.”

  “Indecent—”

  “Worse than a sailor on shore leave,” she smugly asserted.

  “—immoral—”

  “Never claimed to be a monk,” she countered with pride.

  “—shameless—”

  “My mothers were prostitutes. The bar was set very low.”

  “—corrupt—”

  “I’ve seen too many pure souls starve and it’s not a pretty sight.”

  “—licentious—”

  Lèsè frowned. “I am not familiar with the word.”

  “Lustful.” His eyes burned bright and it wasn’t anger.

  “When I’m willing,” she pretended to look pensive as a yielding warmth flowed through. “It’s only with a select few. And you, Mr. Flynn, are definitively select.”

  “Oh, joy. I live to be pleasing to my jailer.”

  His teasing jest restored her humor.

  “Better I find you pleasing than distasteful.” She gave him an appreciative once over.

  “It should rile me the way you eye me like a leg of succulent mutton,” he drawled. “And your openness is quite off putting…”

  “But,” she coaxed.

  He was obviously playing a game with her because he grinned as he changed the subject.

  “You say the water is warm?”

  “Right now, I wish it to be scalding,” she groused, flipping onto her side.

  She lived for a good game of cat and mouse but only when she was the predator. Being the prey—particularly his prey—proved to be a discomforting, slippery slope especially when it played havoc with her insides.

  Even when doing something as innocuous as simply filling the water basin with water, pleasure began to spread through her body. And when he soaped his sponge, his thick strong fingers dripping with suds, her breath caught. There was nothing she could do to stop it. She’d seen scores of men in various stages of undress. None of them–even lovers of her own choosing–made her body react like Christian Flynn.

  Made by the gods. That’s what came to mind as she watched him begin his bath. Perfectly formed, he’d been favored at birth. Every inch of him carved so beautifully, and so sinfully male she wanted to weep.

  Her gaze devoured the lazy path of his hands. All that bare, beautiful alabaster skin and muscle covered in sudsy foam. Mouthwatering, she could taste every single bubble. By the gods, she wanted to get up from this bed, walk over and touch him. Taste him. Run her tongue down his spine. Bite his shoulder. Rub her face in his muscled chest.

  Lèsè gulped. Watching him, felt like coming too close to the sun, blistering and near to combusting. At this moment, she was reminded why she kept her crew primarily female. Desire had monopolized so much of her formative years, she’d come to view it as a wasteful, purposeless pursuit.

  And yet this was definitely desire, skipping along her skin as she watched droplets trickle down his chest and torso. She wanted him the moment she’d laid eyes on him. Help with the maps had only been a means to an end. And that end? Him inside her. Balls deep and languid strokes, her mind added.

  His body could be a feast of erotic delights. And whatever she could consume was hers for the taking.

  And how tempting was the take….

  She licked her lips as she sat up. Hearing the creak of the bed, his gaze lifted. For a moment, the only sound in the shadowed cabin was the rhythmic dripping from the sponge in his hand. Heat wrapped around her in a seductive coil, and squeezed so tightly she had trouble breathing.

  Stupid mouse!

  She sat across from him smoldering in need while his eyes were calmness itself as he returned her regard. His body relaxed without tension while she desired a dark, quiet corner to pleasure herself.

  Focus. Regain control! Smiling, she slipped from the bed. She made quick work of the stays on her pants. And almost sighed in relief as the black silk slid down her legs.

  His eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

  “Mind if we share?”

  “You promised no touching,” he blustered.

  “And I will keep that promise but I could use some help washing my back.”

  FIVE

  In her element, Lèsè padded to the washstand. Behind her, she left a trail of clothes. A sharp intake of breath but other than that he remained silent as she picked up a sponge and a blue bottle filled with scented oil. The lemony concoction not only cleansed but softened the skin.

  “This is my favorite,” she threw out as she turned around. “I…ah…I….”

  Gone was the smirk. In its place, a dark expression coloring his handsome features. Even his sparkling blue eyes swirled black. She should be awash with triumph not this calamitous passion that made her tongue tied and her knees turn to cooked rice noodles.

  More silence. This time a knowing silence. A tempting silence. Despite her shenanigans her desire had remained. Grown under his direct gaze, and she didn’t feel like herself. She was no longer mistress of her own fleet but a sexual being meant for give and take.

  Lèsè felt the skin pucker between her brows. Why had she never felt this way with other men? Why now? Why him?

  “Give me the sponge,” he rasped, calling her bluff and triggering a tingle between her legs. He held out his hand and she stared at it, second guessing her judgement as a wave of unbridled hunger washed over her, swallowing her common sense like a vengeful monsoon.

  A bang followed by a muffled curse drew her gaze to the closed cabin door.

  “Mistress!” an urgent voice called.

  “Tell them to go away,” Christian ordered silkily, the directive sliding over her skin like butterfly kisses. Still, she sensed this was more power play than actual seduction. Plus, the intrusion was a blessing in disguise–a brief reprieve to clear her head.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, tossing him the sponge.

  His eyes tracked her. “Will you not cover yourself?”

  “How soon you forget. I am shameless,” she said, throwing his words in his face.

  “And immoral,” he added, his gaze settling on her rear.

  “Are you jealous?”

  “More like disgusted by this spectacle you make of yourself.
” His eyes lifted to meet hers. The fire in their clear blue depths was suspect, and put a fuel in her moxy.

  “No spectacle,” she said wiggling her rear. “It’s called comfortable in my skin.”

  She reached for the cabin latch and flipped it. Head bowed, Haung cowered on the threshold.

  “More water, mistress,” he muttered.

  Lèsè eyed the bamboo pole resting on his meaty shoulders, the ends bowing from the weight of four buckets. Feeling, Christian’s eyes on her, she affected a seductive pose with one arm stretched above her head, back pressed against the door frame.

  “What say you, Haung,” she purred. “Does my natural state bother you?”

  Without lifting his gaze, he turned sideways to fit through the narrow door frame.

  “No mistress,” he said slipping past her.

  Smiling, Lèsè stepped aside. “See, I told you. Haung has no interest in my body. I will admit, he might find you appealing. What say you? Will you allow him that pleasure?”

  Confused by her riddle, Christian’s eyes narrowed then widened. His gaze darted to Haung. Despite taking particular care to unload his load, his eyes seemed suspiciously drawn to Christian.

  “Bloody Christ,” Christian swore stomping from the basin. Prick cradled in one hand, he used the other to snatch the top sheet from the bed. “I have never desired being pickled and will not change my stance now. Captive or no.”

  Chuckling, Lèsè clapped her tiny hands together. “You are a delight of prudishness and outrage, dear Mr. Flynn. Our time together–far too brief–will surely leave its mark.” Chuckling, she reached up and wiped a tear away.

  “I am glad to be of service,” Christian ground out as he sat down on the bed.

  Feeling contrite, Lèsè flicked her hand at Haung. “You may go now,” to Christian she said, “My intention isn’t to humiliate you.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. A muscle worked in his jaw. “No. You just want to use me as your entertainment to the detriment to my self-respect, my dignity.”

  “Come let us finish our bath,” she suggested, looking for neutral ground.

  “Ladies first.”

  “Suit yourself the water’s delicious.”

  Filled with remorse over her antics, Lèsè finished her bath in silence.

  “The least you can do is tell me something about yourself.”

  “Trying to draw me out?” He gazed at the wall. “I have no dark secrets of the crown or personal. I’m just a simple sailor.”

  “What about the poppy in the hull?”

  His head whipped around. “You lie! We did not carry such filth.” His virulence surprised her, considering opium had been accepted as legitimate currency.

  “Come now, Mr. Flynn. No need to put upon.” Even though her tone remained detached her insides were anything but wound tightly. For some reason, his non-compliance with this scourge crippling her people mattered.

  “I accepted this last adventure with only one condition. Under no undue circumstances would we trade on the black market.”

  “How chivalrous you are, Reverend Flynn.”

  “Not in the least,” he said, shocking her again. “I’ve sailed with dirty cargo ‘afore. It only took me to see the results of that white shit. Medicinal purposes my arse. It’s a monster that turns people into zombies. And all for a couple of barrels of tea or a bolt of silk. Goddam the Queen. Biggest pimp there ever was.”

  She mulled his words in silence and then she asked, “This is your final mission? Rather young for retirement.”

  “I’m an old man by the sea’s standards. I’ve had my sea legs for nigh eighteen summers.”

  “You are an old man. Ancient even.”

  “Cheeky tart. I’m only thirty and one. I’m fit as a fiddle.”

  More like a grizzly. He was a bear of a man who made her feel tiny in his company.

  “Could you be an angel and grab that bucket?”

  “What do you want me to do with it?” he asked, eyeing it as if it contained snakes.

  “I need your assistance rinsing off.” She held out her arms showing off her soapy limbs. And with all intentions of regaining his regard. “All you have to do is pour water over my head.”

  “Just the water?” he asked, Adam’s apple wobbling up and down as he waited for her answer.

  “Of course, silly goose! All I want is water.”

  “Then let me oblige you.”

  She should have suspected his rebellion by the fire lighting his blue eyes. With a self-assured stride, as best as he could with the sheet wrapped around his long legs, he covered the distance and without any ceremony, he scooped up one of the buckets. He tipped it, dumping the water onto her head.

  “You could have warned me first!” she sputtered, pulling her long hair out of her eyes.

  “What would the fun be in that?”

  “You’re here for my entertainment, Mr. Flynn not the other way around,” she snapped.

  He didn’t look the least bit put out by her shrewness. The shadow of a smile flirting with his lips.

  “Go ahead.”

  His eyes narrowed. “More water?” He bent down, reaching for another bucket.

  “No. Go ahead and smile.”

  He slowly straightened. “You’re want me to smile on command? Lord, you have the balls of a bull.”

  “I do have balls bigger than most men.” With a wink, she turned to snatch up two drying sheets from a short stack resting on the wash stand. She flung one of them over his shoulder then carefully wrapped the other around her hair.

  “You’re finding all kinds of uses for me. Maybe I should become your slave.”

  Lèsè slid the sheet from his shoulder. “Madame Shih will seek a ransom.”

  His nostrils flared. “I told you there will be no ransom.”

  “Then you will be presented to Madame Shih.”

  “Make a claim for me. I could be your dancing monkey.”

  More like dancing bear. The sheer breadth of his shoulders triggered images of her clutching them while crying out in ecstasy.

  Oblivious of her lusty musings, he continued to press his petition, “I could become part of your crew.”

  “An all-female crew,” she countered.

  “What about the muscle toting water?”

  Eyes shining bright, Lèsè cocked her head. “Haung and Liu are eunuchs. I can use more muscle,” she said, pretending to warm to the idea while he visibly paled. “Are you willing to—”

  “I most certainly am not,” he declared indignantly. She smiled as his hand crept downward over the thick stick between his legs. “I quite like him.”

  Thinking the issue settled, Lèsè sauntered over to her clothing chest. Behind her, she heard him return to his bath.

  “I could serve you in other ways.”

  His voice had dropped in pitch and taken on a peculiar resonance. Curious, she glanced over her shoulder and found him covered in suds, hands at his sides giving her an unfettered view. Like flipping a switch, an ache settle in her core. She could feel her nipples peek against the sheet wrapped around her. And it took all her concentration to whisper, “How exactly would you serve me, Mr. Flynn?”

  “You know exactly what I’m offering.” He flushed pink and an undercurrent of restrained anger laced his tone.

  “No service is too small or too large?”

  He silently shook his head but his temper still blazed in his blue eyes.

  His ruffled feathers rather excited her. Knowing she played with fire she decided to throw more wood on the fire, “Maybe you could be my valet or the keeper of my slippers.”

  “I am open to anything.”

  More kindling. “Would you feed me plums upon command?”

  “Anything.” He sounded blander than boiled leeks but his fingers bit into his thighs.

  “You don’t sound very convincing.”

  “I’m a proud man.”

  “And better the evil you know than the one you don’t?”
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br />   “More or less.”

  She studied him a moment and when she spoke her teasing manner had dissipated into a sober reality. “I’m flattered by the offer of indentured service but I will have to refuse, Mr. Flynn. I don’t need a slave nor required one. I find the very idea of owning another reprehensible.”

  His dark brows drew together. “The one time you choose to have a shred of decency.”

  When she didn’t contest his criticism, he stared at her a moment, scowl deepening the trough between his eyes, and then he scooped up a bucket and dumped the contents over his head. Water must have got into his nose. He snort like a wounded elephant coming up for air.

  “If you’re not careful, you might drown yourself.”

  “Drowning’s more favorable than the future that awaits me.”

  “You’re beginning to become dull, Mr. Flynn. No more talk of such matters. I can no more change the circumstances of the hand you’ve been dealt than I can mine. In the meantime,” Lèsè sat down on the bed. “Fate has brought us together. How about we agree to enjoy each other’s company.” Smiling, she patted the space beside her.

  Seeing through her diversionary tactic, he remained staunchly in place reminding her of a spoiled child, militant and wrathful when he didn’t get his way.

  “If I ever escape this place, I will make you rue the day you ever laid eyes on the Dorcas.” He looked at her a moment more, his expression stormy, and then, with a curt nod, he strode over to the hammock and climbed in.

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said with the formality of a stranger.

  “Thank you,” she softly said. “For your company.”

  Lèsè lay back. Unable to find sleep, she stared up at the wooden beams, mulling his offer. She should be staunchly proud of her refusal to be a keeper of flesh not experiencing this novel pang of regret. After all, half of her life had been spent in a form of bondage, bartering sex for a roof over her head, food in her belly. The thought of owning another should make her skin crawl. Instead his offer and the recent memory of his virile body triggered an impetuous sensation of desire and a rash answering heat coursing through her veins.

  What was she thinking? She snorted. She’d known him less than a day and he had her abandoning her personal convictions, her very way life to accommodate him.