by Koko Brown
Dammit man, kiss her. He couldn’t resist, was helpless to stop. He leaned down, slowly, giving her ample time to cold cock him. Where neck met shoulder, his lips brushed the hollow. A tentative kiss, no tongue, but clear in its intent.
She uttered a breathy sigh and his inexhaustible desire clamored to a fever pitch. God’s teeth he wanted to hear that sigh in his ears when he sunk deep, so deep she wouldn’t be able to gasp his name.
“I’m sorry, mistress, can’t seem to help my—”
He pulled back, head cocked. No. He hadn’t been mistaken. A soft purring snore tumbled from her lips.
A deep throaty chuckle rumbled inside his chest. "Time for bed, my little pirate," he declared. Gently, as if carrying previous crystal, he lifted her in his arms. Slowly, he pivoted on his heels. He bent low and laid her on the bed. Not the least bit bothered by being tucked in, she curled up on her side with a contented yawn.
A rose with thorns. God’s teeth she was lovely! So beautiful yet prickly if not handled with care. Christian gazed down at the tiny pilot. Her dark hair lay fanned around her. Her eyelashes etched shadows on her high cheekbones. Her lips, slightly parted, were lush.
How vulnerable she looked in her sleep. So vulnerable…
Christian’s expression grew serious. An idea taking root, he turned his head to the door. A few steps, he could secure his freedom and that of his crew. No doubt about it one of her two goons stood on the other side of the threshold. If he made it past him, and somehow secured his weapon, would he be able to find the others before being cut down? After all, he was a sailor not a soldier.
Distantly, Christian heard the waves beating against the side of the ship. He might be a lime juice but he knew the advantages of a strategic retreat.
Setting his game aside for tomorrow, Christian found his bed. His hands tested the hammock’s weight. His muscles tensed, preparing to launch him, and then he had the most intriguing idea. He flicked a glance over his shoulder. This time his lips were curled in a wicked smile. Determined intent sizzling in his eyes, he padded back over to her bed. He couldn't wait to see his little pirate’s face in the morning.
EIGHT
Gentle pressure woke Lèsè from her sleep. Unable to move her arms or legs, she widened her eyes and found Christian gazing back at her.
“Good morning, love. I hope you don’t mind my taking up your offer of sharing your bed.” Before she could react, he leaned down and nuzzled the side of her cheek. The press of his lips was tender much like the kiss a man would give his most treasured lover upon waking.
Buddha give me strength! This close, he was even more handsome, and a part of her wished she was a simple maiden who could lay here and enjoy him, his kisses, his touch.
Another press of his lips, and Lèsè closed her eyes, her heart galloping like a frightened gazelle. More kisses and while an unnerving tremor fluttered deep in the pit of her stomach. A virginal response she’d never felt even when she was a virgin.
Lèsè sighed into the mattress. This was rather nice, being at his mercy. No strategy. No duties. No responsibility. And it felt good. Really, really good.
What if you kept him? What if you left the Red Fleet and sailed away with him? What if they started a new life together? What if they came to love each other?
This kind of thinking was folly. He nor any man was meant for her. And neither was love. Love was for the weak. Love couldn’t keep you fed. Love couldn’t keep a roof over your head. Therefore, love had no place in her life. And neither did he….
“Mr. Flynn are you done?” She kept her tone careful, guarded but a wave of longing swept through her before she tamped it down. For a moment, she wished he wouldn’t listen. Use his kisses…his hands…his body to make her surrender her resolve. And when he eased back on his elbows, she yearned for the return of his touch.
Before she did something stupid–like pull him back down--she rolled from the bed. Meaning to get out of there, so she could clear her head, she quickly dressed. The longer she stayed, she feared her tenuous grasp on control would slip. Already it barely cleaved to a philosophy she wasn’t quite sure she believed in anymore.
Hands shaking, Lèsè pulled up her trousers with one hand, struggled to wrap a multi-colored satin sash around her hips with the other.
“Allow me,” he offered but didn’t give her any choice since he walked up to her and pulled the scarf from her hands. Not beating a path to the door, his drawstring pants hadn’t been laced and the matching magua remained unbuttoned exposing his bare torso. Even in drab commoner’s clothes, far too small for his large frame, Christian Flynn made her pulse race.
“Now how does this go?” he asked, pulling her attention from counting the spattering of dark hairs on his barrel-like chest.
“I double wrap it then knot it in the back,” she said with barely a breath and hating herself.
His eyes aren’t that blue. He’s far too tall. No man’s teeth should be that straight and white. Tearing him down seemed to temper the heat running through her blood.
“Like the obi on a kaymono?”
Lèsè’s narrowed. “You mean kimono,” she corrected, mood instantly soured. It couldn’t be with jealousy could it? After all, that was not an emotion she’d felt in years.
“Ah, yes! The Japanese keymono.” Eyes lighting up, he snapped his fingers. “So very beautiful just like their women.”
“Have you ever lay with one?” Lèsè regretted the words as soon as they passed her lips, and she attempted to correct her misstep, “Don’t answer. It’s none of my business. I apologize if I offended you.”
“No offense taken,” he said, smile still in place. “I apologize for taking such liberties.”
“Why did you?”
“You were so lovely with the morning light dappling your features I couldn’t resist.”
Chuckling, Lèsè rolled her eyes. “What am I going to do with you, Mr. Flynn?”
“Keep me and not sell me off to the highest bidder.”
“I will say you’re persistent.”
“One of the reasons I’ve had such a long and illustrious career on the high seas.”
Playfully wiggling his eyebrows, he leaned in. “I was persistent about survival.”
“That’s one thing we have in common,” she breathed. He’d leaned in so close, if she stepped forward she could press her lips to his. Just one tiny step….
No, No, no, no! If she softened toward him, he just might be the battering ram that knocked the wall down she desperately needed to survive in this cutthroat world. What would happen to her then? Probably lose the respect of her crew. In turn, lose the command of her ship.
Once the sash was secured, she quickly stepped back.
“How’s my handiwork?”
Arms akimbo, she stretched from side to side. “It’s a tad looser than I prefer—”
“I’d be happy to tie it again,” he offered, stepping toward her.
Hands held out in self-defense, she back pedaled away from him. “It’ll do.”
Needing to put distance between them, she padded to the door but stopped midway. She’d forgotten her boots! Exasperated, she whipped around.
“What?” She asked, pushing out a frustrated breath.
He’d come to lean against the foot of the bed. The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk.
“You seem rather put out.” He circled his finger. “I’m sensing a complete about face from the teasing tart I encountered when I first boarded.”
His words made the hackles on her neck lurch upright.
Smiling, he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m coming to think she’s been replaced with an unsure maiden.”
Lèsè angrily decided to prove something to him. She sauntered up to him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. She briefly looked him up and down like any man would his property, then captured his lips.
This wasn’t a kiss of a maiden. She tried to kiss the breath right out of him. The kiss only lasted a few
moments, but she put all the feeling she could muster into it. She caressed the warm bare skin of his chest, molded her body against him. She did all she could to make a point. When she felt the desired affect pressed against her belly, she pushed away from him.
“Never forget I am the one in control,” she said, gripping his chin. “When I want you to kiss me, I will tell you. If I want your hands on my body, it will be by my invitation and my invitation alone.”
As silence once again encompassed them, she scooped up her boots. With a little bit of maneuvering, she yanked them on while hopping to the cabin door. “I’ll have Liu bring you something to eat,” she flung over her shoulder.
“Just a slight favor mistress?”
Lèsè didn’t bother turning around. “No you may not have another kiss.”
“May I have your permission to see my crew? Their welfare is my responsibility.”
Unprepared for the question, she hovered in the doorway. “I don’t see why not.” she murmured. “I’ll have Min-Ru retrieve you.”
“I’m ready now,” he said, pushing away from the bed. Eyes locked with hers, he walked toward her.
She wiggled her fingers at his open tunic. “You need to make yourself presentable.”
“Presentable? Will we be having tea?”
She leaned her shoulder against the door frame, blocking the way. “You cannot go above deck until you do.”
He fixed his gaze over her head. “Compared to him, I’m a monk.”
Lèsè didn’t need to look over her shoulder. Due to the warmer clime, her muscle favored sleeveless vests which they wore unbuttoned.
“They are eunuchs,” she reminded him.
“And seeing my magnificent figure with the proper tools might send your crew into a tizzy?”
“More or less,” she gritted out.
“Maybe I should incite a mutiny.”
“You better hope it’s successful. I will cut out your tongue along with any usurpers.”
“Such brutality. Why am I mildly turned on right now?” Winking, he grasped the bottom frog tie. Lèsè waited until he’d clasped every single one before she launched into her expectations.
“You will walk ahead of me. Any sudden moves, and I will not hesitate to take you down.”
His eyes raked over her. “With what weapon?”
She snapped her fingers, motioning Huang forward. For safe keeping, she’d given her muscle the twin Hudiedao knives she carried on her at all times. Ever since Christian became a guest in her cabin, she’d removed them and a chest full of her personal weapons. She might be crazy for entertaining a captive but the prostitutes hadn’t raised a fool.
“In no uncertain terms,” she continued, “will I be made a fool of in front of my crew Are we clear?”
His eyes lingered on the knives stuffed in her sash, then they slowly lifted. “Very clear, mistress.”
“Good,” she said with a smile. “Now after you.”
He proceeded her through the passageway and up the ladder.
NINE
The sea was unusually calm. Christian tilted his head back and delighted in the wind ruffling his hair, the salt tickling his nostrils. Only a captive for two days, but he’d sorely missed the fresh air, the roar of the sea even the pesky squawk of the seagulls tracking them.
A dozen women milled about. Less than half of them manned a station. The majority—a loud and rowdy bunch--sat beneath a large, rain-spotted canvas enshrouded in a cloud of smoke, playing dominoes. All of them stopped what they were doing to stare at him.
He glanced over his shoulder at his tiny pilot. “Maybe I should stay and play,” he said cheekily.
A smile curled her lips. “Let’s see if they have any objections.”
Surprising him, she ambled over to the group. In rapid fire, Mandarin she declared his intentions, causing all eyes to swing toward him. A held-breath moment passed and then they shook their heads. Smiling, Lèsè rejoined him and they returned to their game, dissonance back in place as an inharmonious cacophony of shrieks mixed with laughter broke the silence that muted their earlier revelry.
Christian had a feeling their refusal had more to do with not wanting to cross their captain than an unwillingness to play with a foreigner. With this at the forefront of his consciousness, he watched her crouch over a closed hatch. Grasping the handle, she tugged hard, opening it. He moved to descend, but her hand shot out.
“I’ll go first.”
With a flourish akin to an acrobat, she grasped the edge of the deck, swung down and landed lightly.
“Do you need me to hold the ladder?” Humor sparkling in her eyes, she leaned against the grasped the side rails.
He answered her taunt with a flying leap into the hold. Not as sure footed, he landed heavily.
“You landed like an elephant,” she chuckled.
Christian stiffened. Her about face like a knife blade of acute awareness to his confounded senses. The hard façade she’d presented to her crew had been seemingly replaced by the mischievous tart he’d sparred with. Sunlight spilling through the open hatch illuminated her exquisite features now augmented by a magnanimous open expression.
Forgetting the reason for their being down in the hold, he came to stand over her. Lord above, she was a lovely creation. In all his thirty-one years, he’d never met a woman as beautiful nor as fierce as this one.
Kiss her.
With her earlier threat of bodily harm still very much in the back of his head, Christian leaned down slowly, giving her ample time to realize what he was doing.
"Flynn, mate!"
He fought a stream of curses and straightened. Unable to look away, his eyes remained locked with hers.
“Your crew is waiting on you.” Smile still very much in place, she pointed toward the ship’s aft.
Christian flicked a glance over his shoulder. Pieces of canvas hung from the ceiling breaking up a quarter of the lower deck. His helmsman, Fergus Watts, stood in the makeshift pathway running down the center. The rest of crew slowly emerged from behind the dividers.
Flushed with relief and excitement, he pounded over to them.
“By God man, you’re a sight for sore eyes. We thought they’d thrown you to the fishes!” His boatswain, Reggie Barker, gushed. “Those she devils wouldn’t tell us anything.”
Christian’s gaze skipped over to the ladder where Lèsè had taken a seat. Profile to them, tongue stuck out, she was tossing her knives, one and then the other, in the air in rapid succession.
“If it isn't Christian ‘fuckin’ Flynn." The tight knit circle parted as his commander shouldered his way front and center.
Archibald Talbot’s icy blue gaze raked over him. “You've practically become one of them. Wearing their clothes and all.”
Christian’s jaw clenched. “The blood ruined my clothes.”
Talbot snorted. “Ah yes, the fruit of disobeying a command. Such a valiant Lancelot rushing to save us all,” he drawled.
The other man left the words unsaid but the insinuation was fairly clear. Talbot deemed his rescue a failure and was leaving their current predicament at his feet. Familiar rage filled him, but he tamped it down enough, ensuring the former commander kept his crooked, albeit rotten teeth.
Still, Christian refused to let it go. “At least I met our enemy with a large enough sword.”
Talbot looked on the verge of an epileptic seizure. Around him, most of the crew suffered from either hiccups or a coughing fit.
“H-how dare you speak to me in that manner?” Talbot balked, his jowly cheeks turning beet red.
“I dare because you are no longer my commander,” Christian bit out. If there was one positive about this whole mess this was it. He no longer had to defer to a fool.
Indignant, Talbot puffed out his chest, rather his belly, or maybe it was both. Christian couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
“Land or sea, I’m still your superior!” the other man maintained in a feeble attempt to pr
eserve his station.
Chuckling, Christian shook his head. “You’re no longer the master of the Dorcas. With no ship, you have no authority over any of us.”
A tense silence fell between them, the hum of anticipation for Talbot’s comeback vibrating in the air. After a beat, Christian refused to give him any more of his life.
“Where’s Harry?” He asked, turning to Fergus. Knowing he’d been dismissed, Talbot waddled off to a quiet corner.
“They put him in the galley to help the cook,” Fergus affably replied. “We see him twice a day when he brings our meals."
Happy with the news, Christian smiled. He’d be sure to thank his little pirate later for keeping her word.
Tully Riddick, a veteran seaman, tweaked one of the frog ties lining his jacket with a grimy finger. “You look good man fer getting yer brains bashed in. Bet you have a mighty egg up there.”
Cristian reached up and fingered the somewhat shrinking lump at the base of his skull. “I still see stars if I stand up too fast.” His eyes ran over them. “I would be remiss if I didn’t ask after your welfare."
Fergus’ rum-reddened features twisted with disgust. “Nothing but rice and fish to eat. An’ can you believe they want us to bathe every day.”
“The horror,” Christian murmured. He actually liked that particular perk.
The boatswain’s eyebrows lifted in sudden awareness. “Where have they been keeping you?”
Guilt clawed at Christian's insides. “I’ve been pressed into teaching the pilot the maritime shipping routes.”
“Are you in the galley with Harry?"
He hesitated so long, his men egged him for an answer. Funny. He’d hated his environs and yet he was awash with shame because in truth he had it better than them.
“I’m in the pilot’s cabin,” he quietly said.
One hand planted on a bony hip, the other cupping his ear, Tully shuffled closer. “Can you repeat that, guvnah? I don’t think I heard that straight. Whose cabin are ye sharing?”