by Koko Brown
“The pilot.”
Eyes wide in disbelief, Tully turned to his deck mates. “The lucky bastard,” he gushed, triggering a landslide of raucous laughter. Panting for air, he cupped his hands over his mouth. “Hey, pretty lady! I can read yer charts better than this big tree!” He jabbed his elbow in Reggie’s ribs. “Get it? Yer charts!”
Reggie slapped the man’s arm away. “Shut your mouth! She would never want you.”
“You got that right,” Tully agreed. He crept forward and cupped Christian’s cheeks. “The feisty pilot wants his pretty face. If only me mother hadn’t had the face of a mule," he bemoaned. “I could be shogging a beautiful bird on the South China Sea.”
Christian swatted away the man’s hands. “I am not shogging her.” He refused to make them privy to their little game of cat and mouse game.
“Too bad,” Tully groused. “I was hopin’ you could use that blessed visage to thrust us out of here.”
“You want ‘em to turn whore to gain our freedom?” Fergus chortled.
Tully shrugged. “E’s always been a resourceful man. More so than that fool of a Commn’dah, Fat Talbot.”
“If he had such a silly inclination, it’s dashed now because of your big mouth.” Fergus nodded his head at the lady in question. She didn’t appear interested in their conversation. Christian wasn’t fooled. No longer flying in the air, her knives rested on her thighs.
Of course, Tully could be slower than most. “What say you Mister Flynn? Can you work magic with that third leg of yours?” Rolling his eyes heavenward, the seaman smacked both hands on his forehead. “Wots I’m sayin’ the last port we was at we ‘ad to help him beat ‘em away. And remember that scullery maid who tried to stowaway?”
“I don’ remember—”
Tully slapped Fergus’ back so hard the boatswain took several steps. To Christian he said,
“Remember that squib Phil Jenkins swore we’d run into mermaids off Cape Horn? Turns out they were nothin’ but sea lions.”
“Shove off,” Reggie griped. “He isn’t down here to skip down memory lane.”
“Do you know what they mean to do with us if the company doesn’t bully up the ransom?” Reggie asked. A father of eight, his coming home affected more than just him.
Their anxious expressions caused his chest to burn like he’d been punched. He always erred on the side of truth. Today just might be the day he ruined his streak. In spite of their circumstances, his men were in good spirits. He didn’t want to be the one bearing bad tidings. Besides, in less than a week they would soon learn their fate.
“I know no more than you.”
“When you get wind of something, promise you won’t keep us in the dark?”
“You’ll be the first to know, Reggie. I promise.”
“I appreciate that, Mr. Flynn. My Milly is a strong woman and clever to boot. I’ve seen her make a meal for ten with only four potatoes. But with me out the picture, I don’t think even she would be able to produce enough miracles to keep my brood from starving.”
A few whispered reassurances filtered through the group.
“I best shove off,” Christian murmured, unable to offer any comfort. With a promise to return again, he made his farewells. Feet heavy like lead guided him back to the ladder and his exquisite jailer.
“Good seeing you, guv’nah,” Tully called out. “Next time you pay us a visit, we’ll share a pot of tea. I right look forward to that each meal.”
Christian hesitated. The man’s odd actions narrowed to a finite focus. He’d underestimated the old jack tar to silly prattle and tall tales.
“Would you like to stay?” Lèsè asked softly. Her usual shields still down.
Torn, Christian gripped the ladder rails. He desperately wanted to remain but he wouldn’t be helping any of them by staying just out of a sense of loyalty.
“I promised I would be of service.” Her eyebrows rose in surprise and he went on with a brief smile, “Do you no longer have need of me?”
She stood very still for a moment, her gaze coolly measuring him. Then her shoulder lifted in the merest of shrugs. “We haven’t finished all the maps.”
“Then you still need me,” he confirmed.
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Tush…Mr. Flynn. You know how to tempt me.”
The teasing lilt in her voice brought to mind their shared intimacy in her cabin. Just looking at her and his blood heated with a sudden desire to be alone with her.
“Eager for your next lesson?” he asked, his tone unabashedly wolfish.
He wasn’t speaking exclusively of charts nor maps.
She snorted and stepped closer to him. “How little you know, Mr. Flynn.”
“I know you don’t want me.”
Her dark eyes lit up. “And I know you hate me,” she retorted.
“Say that later when we’re naked.”
“Why naked?” She murmured, affecting a wide-eyed innocence which in turn made him wish her bed was closer than on the other side of the ship.
Arousal swelling, he leaned in close. “Because when I hate you, I want to hate you so deep you won’t know where my hate begins and ends.”
Her dark eyes flashed. “Now who’s the teasing tart?”
“Not a tease when I aim to follow through.”
Their gazes locked. Everything melted in the background, as it always seemed to do when he looked at her. Her eyes were dark, luminous and absolutely riveting in her pale face. A sigh escaped her parted lips. He wanted that sigh–warm and caressing–in his ear, across his mouth and someplace much lower.
Christian cocked his head. “Cat got your tongue?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “After you, Mr. Flynn,” she said motioning to the ladder with a wave of her hand.
Fighting a smile, Christian straightened. He was beginning to see a pattern. When her sense of detachment was most threatened, the wall came down.
Good luck with that going forward, my little pilot!
TEN
“So will it be Captain de La Souza’s map of the West Indies or Wilmington’s map of the Americas?” He asked, skirting the table.
“The Americas,” Lèsè replied only because it was the latter choice.
While he dove through maps, sorted charts and disentangled nautical instruments, Lèsè hung back. Her usual fervor for study currently displaced. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what made her feel this way, she only knew that she couldn’t shake this utter lack of interest.
“You’re a clever bird so we’ll do both.” Oblivious, he unfurled two maps then anchored them.
He could’ve been teaching the lesson in Portuguese. His words went in one ear and out the other barely registering in her brain. She was too entranced by the way his remarkably long fingers moved so sensuously, tracing water currents and shipping routes. By the roll of his massive shoulders beneath his jacket and the dark waves curling over the collar.
Lèsè clenched her hands. How was he able to do that? How did he make her lose focus? Forget who and what she was to simply enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. He would be good, a heated voice whispered, so very good and for a shivering, wholly desperate moment she punched and kicked at the sensual images of them naked and straining together, his hands caressing her, her legs parting….
“What was the stowaway to you?”
What an intemperate jealous question. She hadn’t meant to blurt the words aloud, she resentfully thought. Who cared what women he’d been with in the past? He and she didn’t have a present nor a future.
“Forget I asked that,” she rushed, trying to salvage her dignity. “It’s none of my business.”
“So you were listening.” He slowly lifted his head to look at her. “What did you make of it?”
Other than the parts that made her jealous, she didn’t remember much of it. “This is my ship. I’m its eyes and ears. I need to be apprised remain one step ahead of any trouble. What kind of leader would I be if I couldn’t root ou
t a prisoner uprising?”
“Or a mutiny,” he added, rising to full height. He crossed his arms across his chest. The gesture caused his meaty forearms to bulge, reminding her of the powerful hind legs of a stallion.
“I can’t help but notice you said nothing about the safety of your crew.”
She snorted. “Why do you keep forgetting I’m a pirate? Every woman and man on this ship knew the risks. We all sign on knowing no one has our backs.”
His eyebrows shot heavenward in response to her confession. “So you have no friends?”
“I didn’t say that,” she bristled. “I have a few but none of them aboard ship. I’m their leader. I need my crew to follow me not like me.”
A whistle thrilled between his full lips.
“Tush! Keep your pity. I’m not lonely. I have lived a fulfilling life. The life of ten men.”
“Loyalty can be just as influential as iron will.”
“What’s loyalty without trust?” she cooed. “My crew trusts I will not make stupid choices. They have faith I will not lead them into ruin.” Her eyes narrowed. “Were you and your captain friends?”
He barked a quick laugh. “I neither trusted nor liked that arrogant cuckold.”
“Then why did you follow him? Why sign on with a man who wasn’t your friend.”
He leaned against the edge of the table, his expression decidedly sheepish. “In a lucrative purse, I trust. Have an opening?”
Now it was her turn to take pity. She balanced her hands on his shoulders and batted her eyes. “You know my terms, Mr. Flynn. You can’t be a full man aboard my ship.”
He uttered a strained laugh. “I quite like all my parts.”
“I like you the way you are as well.”
A deep throaty chuckle sliced through her shocked silence.
“My, my have you become sweet on me?”
Wishing the planked floor would swallow her up, she pushed away from him.
He followed, tracking her step for step.
“Now I understand your question about the stowaway. You’re jealous.”
Lèsè stopped dead. “I am not jealous. I-I barely know you.”
“Then why ask?”
Lèsè shrugged.
“Don’t get tongue tied on me now,” he teased, his blue eyes shooting sparks.
She glared at him, he glared back at her. The two of them squaring off.
“And here I thought you had no fear, my little pirate.”
My little pirate. The words made Lèsè shiver. Feeling vulnerable, she opened her mouth and the words tumbled forth, “I assumed the woman followed you because she was in love or…or that she couldn’t get enough of what you were giving her.”
His lips slowly curled into the most debauched grin. Lèsè braced herself.
“I’ll tell you for a kiss.”
Lèsè wasn’t sure if she was relieved or angered by his answer. She didn’t have time to contemplate her emotions. His hand snaked out grasped the nape of her neck and hauled her toward him. He leaned down, his mouth teasing her ear. Powerless to do anything, she stood motionless, pliable as his arms encircled her, pulled her close. His mouth traveled lower, inch by precious inch, his warm breath caressing her cheek, the fine hairs at her temple. His method of bargaining was rather nice.
“I’ll tell you for a kiss,” he teased
Anchoring her hands on his chest she pushed up on her toes. The moment their tongues collided she knew she’d made a mistake. One taste of him wouldn’t be enough.
A strange weakness entering her limbs, Lèsè sighed throatily. She believed herself immune to basic human lust but her body seemed to come alive, burn for him. Not happy with this new revelation, she bit his bottom lip.
“F--!”
Taking advantage of his open mouth, Lèsè pushed past his teeth. Their tongues collided and a delicious shock flared through her body. The taste of him seduced her palate and triggered her dormant senses. Tunneling her fingers in his hair, she cupped his head, pressing closer.
Like the way she lived her life, Lèsè kissed him hard and fast. Divide and conquer her mind shouted, her mouth granting him no mercy or respite. Aggressive, bordering on brutal, she aimed to take everything he had to give.
He turned his head, his breath beating against her cheek.
“No,” she railed, feeling shipwrecked.
“Have to slow this down.” His hands stroked her back and tendrils of desire slowly unfurled like spirals of smoke. “You’re not plundering a ship.”
The only warning she had was when his hand tightened around her nape. Turning his head, he slid his tongue languidly against her lips. He pressed his body closer at the same time he eased inside her mouth. He stroked her tongue with an agonizing slowness. Responding to his gentle persuasion, she squeezed her eyes shut, and arched into him. A fire was sweeping through her blood.
Relentless in his endeavor, he explored her mouth ad nauseam from caressing and savoring, slowly graduating to devouring. He made her focus on nothing besides him. All her thoughts, her concentration centered on this one man who’d become the center of her universe. Her surroundings faded into the background. The lapping of the waves against the ship’s hull, the sound of her crew all failed to register.
His slid his hand between her legs. Like his mouth, it moved methodically slow. His fingers inched up, pressed past her feminine folds touching her core.
Vibrating with primal need, she groaned into his mouth, “Don’t stop.”
He used his mouth, hands and body to work her with an expert precision. His devilish fingers delivering the most damage as they touched places that robbed her sanity. Chest burning, pitifully lightheaded, her limbs felt heavy and useless. She felt like she was drowning. Lèsè mentally shrugged. If she left this plane, at least she’d die with a smile on her face. Arms splayed wide, she offered herself up to him like a sacrifice.
“You want me,” he whispered coaxingly against her throat, and a palpable heat sizzled across her skin. The truth in his words made her sex clamor to be sated.
“I’m yours,” he insisted. “And only yours.” He punctuated each word with a bone-melting caress against her clit. “Allow me to please you, love. With my actions, my body, my very breath.”
The thought proved intoxicating because this had to be what it felt like to be so foxed the foolish part of her mind hijacked her common sense.
Lèsè’s breath caught in her throat when he tugged on her pants, causing them to gape open. He quickly inserted a hand. Callused fingertips slid over her skin, searching. Lèsè trembled. The anticipation almost too much to bear. She knew exactly where that hand was headed. And without the barrier of her silk pants….
Buddha, give me strength!
He tunneled his hand between her thighs, pushing them further apart while he devoted his fingers to that sensitive button between her legs. She clawed at his brawny shoulders. She’d never experienced anything this soul searing.
“Please.” Afraid she’d divulge her last secrets, she bit down on bottom lip.
“Look at me.”
She lifted her eyelids, meeting his gaze. Riveted, unable to look away, her awareness of him heightened to a divine magnitude. She felt herself coming undone layer by layer.
She arched into him, chest heaving. “Flynn—”
“I have you.”
Trusting him, she gave into the searing pleasure. The next instance she was floating. Too bad she came down much too fast.
Hands moving to repair her clothes, she staggered back.
“Stay. We can spend the day in bed.” His eyes were heavy lidded, deliciously wicked. Bedroom eyes.
She averted her gaze and with trembling hands she fumbled with the sash no longer holding up her pants. “It’s the middle of the day. I–I need to see to my ship. My crew will wonder what happened to me,” she finished on a whisper.
During her mad dash, he’d planted his hands on his hips. The stance drew his jacket apart and her gaze was
inexorably drawn to his erection. Straining the front of his trousers, his cock had grown exponentially and hung like low hanging fruit from a tree.
His kissable, and oh so lickable lips curled into sensual lopsided smile. “Come here. I’ll help you dress.”
Licking her lips, Lèsè stepped forward. With some practice under his belt, he made quick work getting her to rights.
“I’ll have Haung bring in some cold water,” she said with obvious effort.
“That won’t help.” He used her sash to pull her into him. So close, his erection pressed into her belly. “Nothing can help me forget the way you feel in my arms, the taste of your lips. Take care of your business, my little pirate. I will be here waiting for you.”
ELEVEN
Wound tightly as a cocoon, Lèsè paced the confines of the narrow stairwell. She refused to go atop until, she reigned in her chaotic emotions. She’d always thought herself immune to lust. Sex no more than a business transaction. None of her customers had ever made her feel anything beyond impatience for them to be done and on their way.
In truth, her utter lack for passion had resulted in opting for a relationship free existence outside the brothel. After all a poor whore knows she’s in an exclusive arrangement with each and every one of her clients.
Not Christian Flynn. Once again he’d been able to stir up a passion within her she hadn’t known existed. Even now her body still burned from his brand of love making. It was like a permanently etched tattoo. She couldn’t shake him. All she had to do was close her eyes and she could still feel the thickness of cock. The sensual glide of his tongue. The rough texture of his callused hands.
Lèsè leaned a shoulder against the framed doorway and looked out. It was a beautiful day. A great day for sailing-bad for pillaging. In this kind of weather, a ship’s spyglass could count everyone on board. She noted the position of the sun in the sky and gauged the afternoon watch would soon be relieving the morning crew. And she needed to show her face. Sighing in frustration, she pushed away from the wall.