by Nina Bangs
Fun was the magic word. She’d look the ship over and still have time to get in line for the fantasy featuring actors who wouldn’t come close to the pirate who lived in her imagination. Asima had that much right. Besides, she’d had her fill of crowds today. It’d feel good to be alone for a while—if she could shut Asima up—to try and unravel her mixed feelings about Eric.
Donna started to put Asima down. They’d be walking on grass, and grass wasn’t hot. Asima could trot her own little behind over to the ship.
“Hey, hey.” Asima dug her claws into Donna’s top and hung on. “You can’t put me down here. There’re fire ant mounds in this grass. Do you know what a fire ant bite feels like?” She didn’t wait for Donna to answer. “If you did, you wouldn’t even think of putting me down.”
Donna was such a pushover. She’d bet the park’s grounds-keepers went on fire ant search-and-destroy missions every day. But just in case, she’d hang on to Asima. “I notice it doesn’t bother you that I might get bitten.”
Asima wisely chose to leave that comment alone.
Donna soon realized the lake was bigger than it looked, but finally with lots of tripping and cursing she reached the other side. She fought her way through the fake vines and found the inlet with the pirate ship anchored in its middle. The ship wasn’t as close to the shore as Donna would’ve liked.
“So I’m supposed to walk up that gangplank?” Duh, yes.
“Hey, would I take you someplace that wasn’t safe? Put me down and I’ll go across first.”
“Is that a trick question? Because my gut says you’re the queen of unsafe. Besides, I don’t come from a seafaring family.” She put Asima down and watched as the cat scampered up the gangplank onto the ship and then turned to wait for Donna. Oh, well, she’d come this far. Refusing to look down at the water, she joined Asima.
The pirate ship freed Donna’s imagination. The darkness lit only by moonlight cast the ship into menacing shadows. Great atmosphere. She stared up at the tall mast, picturing sails billowing in the wind, and after poking around in the galley, she decided gourmet cooking was a nonhappening on this pirate ship. Running her fingers over the cannon, she could almost hear the shouts of “Avast, ye scurvy dogs!”
Asima padded ahead of her as Donna explored. The fake vines hid the rest of the park from her, and if she pretended hard enough, she could almost believe the darkened ship was authentic.
She lost track of time as she crept around exploring every nook and cranny, pretending she was a pirate captain whose ship was sliding silently through a black sea to attack some unsuspecting merchant ship—with luck an unsuspecting merchant ship filled with hotties she could take captive and use as she wished. She was obviously experiencing a hormonal-induced high.
She was in the captain’s cabin, rooting around by pale moonlight, when she realized Asima was gone. Puzzled, she walked onto the deck to look around. She didn’t find Asima, but she did discover that she was no longer a landlubber. Her bridge to terra firma was gone.
It didn’t take long to connect the dots. No Asima. No gangplank. She didn’t know what game Asima was playing, but she’d picked the wrong talk-show host to mess with. When she got off the ship . . . Hmm. How was she going to get off?
Donna glanced over the side of the ship. It was too far from the shore for her to jump. She could scream, but then she’d have to explain what she was doing on the ship. Nope, didn’t want to do that. She hadn’t brought her cell phone. Okay, she officially had a problem.
She was leaning over the railing trying to decide if it was worth jumping into the water, when she heard the soft laughter behind her.
Her heart leaped into her throat in a vain attempt to escape. Too bad, because it wasn’t going anywhere without her. And she wasn’t going anywhere because her lungs had stopped working. That was the only explanation for her inability to breathe. When they finally did start working again, she’d be sucking wind for a week.
Slowly she turned from the rail. If she’d spun quickly, she probably would’ve passed out on the deck. The damned moon chose that exact moment to slip behind a cloud, the sneaky bastard.
And in the suddenly stifling darkness, she saw the black shape of a man.
“Looking for a pirate captain, talk-show lady?”
15
“Eric?” Donna was in one-word mode as she tried to recover. She clasped the railing and concentrated on getting her heart pumping and her lungs doing their in-and-out thing again.
“For tonight I’m Eric the Evil, scourge of the sea, and captain of the pirate ship Asima.” He stalked closer.
“Asima?” There, she finally had her heart under control, but her breathing was still iffy.
“Uh-huh. She made me promise to name my ship after her in exchange for telling me where you were.” He moved even closer.
That sneaky little witch. Asima had set her up. Donna opened her mouth to lash out at all feline flimflammers, but at that moment the moon emerged from behind the clouds.
Whoa, would you look at that. And “that” was definitely not the moon. Donna closed her mouth and slid her gaze the length of his remarkable body. Her very own pirate captain. The light breeze lifted his dark hair away from his face, exposing every hard line. Shadows lent his high cheekbones and firm jaw an exotic cast. His blue eyes seemed to gleam in the pale moonlight.
Eric had spoken last, so Donna supposed it was her turn. “I thought you had to work tonight. How’d you get away from the castle?”
“I didn’t.”
Who cared about his answer, because she was all caught up in his whole pirate persona—white shirt stretched across broad shoulders and open almost to his waist, exposing a wide vee of muscular chest, leather pants hugging narrow hips and strong thighs. Leather pants? Did pirates wear leather pants? Didn’t matter. Leather pants were sexy. Calf-high boots completed the picture of a masterful pirate captain. Made her wet and wild just looking at him.
Surprising. Because in her youthful fantasies, she was always the captain, the masterful pirate queen of . . .
Wait. In her frenzy to visually devour every yummy inch of him, Donna thought she might’ve missed something important. “Umm, run that past me again. How’d you get away from the castle?”
“I didn’t.” He stopped a few feet from her. Leaning his hip against the railing, he crossed his arms over his spectacular chest.
“Okay. Got it. Sooo, you’re not officially here?” Ah, another weirdfest supplied by her friendly Live the Freakiness theme park.
“No.” His smile was slow, sensual, and brimming with enjoyment over her puzzlement. It assured her that even when he wasn’t officially “here,” he was more than enough to satisfy her.
“And neither am I.” The deep sexy voice behind her—the one that was definitely Eric’s deep sexy voice—spun her around.
The second Eric stood quietly with hands at his side watching her. He was dressed as she’d pictured the crew member on a pirate ship would look—bare feet, ragged pants that only reached to his calves, and shirtless. Something clenched low in her belly, promising that this would be a lot more fun than her childhood fantasies.
Donna swung her gaze back to Eric the pirate captain. Tentatively she reached out to touch him. Her hand swept right through him. “I don’t know how you’ve done this—nope, don’t tell me, don’t want to know—but I can’t see how a fantasy has a chance of being effective if neither of you have something a girl can hang on to. That’s just me, of course. I’m sure you have a perfectly wonderful plan to make this a memorable experience.” She glanced over the side of the boat and wondered how deep the water was.
His laughter mocked her foolish doubts. “Unfortunately, I only have one flesh-and-blood body, and at the moment it’s occupied giving customers their money’s worth in the castle.” His voice softened, a sensual invitation to play. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about your pirate fantasy. Tonight, you’ll have the pleasure of exploring both sides of
your fantasy. You’ll find that disciplining a defiant member of your crew can be erotically stimulating, and then you’ll learn that being a pirate captain’s helpless captive has its own rewards.”
Well, poo. And here she’d left Lola’s whip and bustier back in her room. “That sounds intriguing, but I guess I need a solid someone to make my fantasy real. No offense, but neither of you qualifies as solid. So why don’t we put this off until another night?”
His smile faded as he moved closer. Instinctively she stepped back. Stupid. His body wasn’t here. It was in the castle terrorizing the latest wide-eyed virgin-of-the-moment. He couldn’t touch her.
“We can’t put it off for another night, talk-show lady. We’re running out of nights.” His lips tipped up in a smile meant to tempt the barnacles right off ye olde pirate ship. “Of course, if you decide to stay for the weekend or maybe even an extra week, we could explore any fantasy you chose. And I’d make sure it was with full-body contact.”
“Yes, well, I’m thinking about it.” She’d already decided to stay the weekend, but a whole extra week? Did she dare? Sure she had vacation time coming, and she could call in a few favors from people who would sub for her. But did she want to? Yes. Would it be a wise move? No. Decisions, decisions. They used to be so easy for her only a week ago when the world was a satisfying black or white. Where had all the gray come from?
“You’re thinking too much.” Eric the pirate captain demanded her attention again. “Give yourself over to the fantasy, and see where your imagination takes you.”
A week in the Castle of Dark Dreams had taught her to expect the unexpected, so she watched him warily.
And then his whisper surrounded her. “Turn to the disobedient seaman behind you. You’ve watched him every day, working in the sun, his body gleaming with sweat, and you’ve wanted him. Now you have him at your mercy. Imagine and enjoy.”
Donna still didn’t see how he could deliver the wow factor in her fantasy without his physical body, but she’d wanted her pirate fantasy for so long that she’d give it a try.
“Imagine, Donna.” His whisper became part of her and made all things possible. “Your mind is more powerful than you think. It can take you anywhere you want to go. Imagine.” The final word was merely a breath of promise.
Okay. Show time. Donna turned toward Eric the Disobedient, closed her eyes, and pictured the scene she wanted. A dark corner of her mind gleefully pointed out that a week ago she would’ve run long and hard from what Eric was suggesting. She was learning trust, and where trust existed could other bonding agents be far behind? She ignored the voice and opened her eyes.
The ship rocked in the swells of the open sea, and Donna grabbed the rail to keep her balance. Damn, where was her Dramamine when she needed it? Wrong, wrong. Pirate captains didn’t get seasick, and they didn’t need to hang on to things to keep their balance. Taking a deep breath, she dropped her hand from the railing and scowled at the member of her crew who’d dared defy her.
The wind whipped the sails, and dark clouds warned of an approaching storm. The storm was nothing compared to the punishment she’d visit on his defiant body.
Her palms were damp with excitement and anticipation. She rubbed them against her thighs, taking in stride her pirate ensemble of white shirt unbuttoned and tied just below her full breasts—she didn’t remember them being that full—and tight black pants tucked into high boots. She clutched a sword in one hand. Where’d that come from? Her clothes were so tight there wasn’t a place to hide a butter knife, let alone a sword.
She knew her eyes glittered with evil intent as she glanced around the deck at the rest of her assembled crew. All women. She’d found that women, like the lionesses in a pride, were capable of hunting and destroying prey with more efficiency and less stupid chest-pounding than men. They weren’t testosterone driven, and therefore didn’t feel the need to prove their masculinity by taking chances that led to mistakes. Dead pirates didn’t get to spend their booty. Dead pirates didn’t get to shake their booty, either. Bummer.
But Donna, Bitch of the Brine, always took on one male crew member for sexual entertainment to ease the boredom of long sea voyages. Because men were so predictable. At some point during the voyage, they always felt the need to exercise their perceived male dominance. That was when Donna pounced and the fun began.
“Ladies, we have a seaman here who refused to obey a direct order from me. Therefore, I’ve called all of you together to witness his punishment.”
Her crew whooped and hollered their glee at the announcement. Donna turned her attention back to Eric the Unfortunate. She blinked. He’d been stripped naked and now stood with his back to the mast and his hands tied above his head. He’d spread his legs to keep his balance on the rolling deck.
Donna didn’t know who’d done the stripping and tying, but as fantasies went, this one was heating up. Eric’s hard body was slick with sweat and every muscle was clearly delineated as he struggled to free himself.
Donna offered him her best diabolical laugh. “Accept your fate, my beautiful insolent animal.” She trailed the tip of her whip—she’d lost her sword somewhere along the way—across each male nipple and watched them grow hard.
“Bitch!” His voice was harsh with anger and defiance.
“Thank you. That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me today.” Oh, goody. She loved a man who had the guts to curse her. “But compliments won’t change what I intend to do to you.” She leaned closer, savoring the scent of angry male. “First I’ll rub the butt of my whip between your legs. Back and forth, back and forth. Just to loosen you up.” And in her mind she could see it happening—the end of her whip sliding between his strong thighs, the sway of his balls as her whip rubbed against them, the sensual writhing of his body as he tried to escape what she was doing.
“What the hell do you want?” His rasping question was rife with frustration.
“I want you hard and hungry for my crew. You look like a man who could keep a lot of women happy.” She would slide the tip of her whip over his sex, teasing him with the possibilities for unspeakable pain or exquisite pleasure.
Donna’s breathing quickened while she watched his cock grow hard as he imagined what she had planned for him. She felt the moist heat between her legs and knew she’d be at the head of the line to sample him.
“I’m going to invite my crew to touch you, sort of a preview of things to come.” She reveled in his look of horror as he watched the ring of women closing in on him.
The women converged on him—sliding their hands over every inch of his bared body, kneading his butt cheeks and inner thighs, pinching his nipples, cupping his balls, clasping his huge erection, and then squeezing to hear his aroused moans.
She was feeling like doing some moaning herself. In a minute she’d clear her crew away from him and then drag his hot body off to her cabin where she could enjoy his punishment away from prying eyes.
Suddenly she felt a presence behind her. Before she could turn, she sensed a sword point at her back.
“Let me introduce myself. I’m Eric the Evil, and you were so involved with your crew member’s punishment you didn’t hear my men and me board your ship.” His voice was dark and wicked, more evil than even her own. “My men will take your crew to my ship, the Asima, and then I’ll amuse myself.”
Uh-oh. That sounded ominous . . . but strangely arousing. She turned to face him as his men rounded up her crew and hustled them away. She had to look up a long way. Wow. Big, bad, and gorgeous. “Asima? Strange name for a pirate ship.”
“I named it after a strange being.” His grin was a slash of white against his tanned skin. “There’re just the three of us here.” He nodded toward the man tied to the mast. “He’s your captive, and now you’re my captive. What can we do with this scenario?”
“Nothing much comes to mind.” She wondered if she could make her sword reappear by concentrating really hard.
“You disappoint me. Well, tha
t’s okay, because I have enough ideas for both of us.” A rumble of thunder and a flash of lightning punctuated his threat.
Without warning, he flicked the point of his sword toward her shirt, and when she looked down it had fallen open, exposing her breasts. Double Ds? She didn’t know who they belonged to, but somewhere a woman was waking up to find the boob fairy had left her two 32Cs.
Eric the Evil’s interest was heating up as he slid his gaze from her breasts over the rest of her body. No surprise when she glanced down to find she was naked, like in not one stitch of pirate garb other than her shirt. She could now honestly brag that she’d met a man whose stare could melt the clothes right off a woman’s body.
She probably looked pretty stupid standing there with just her shirt on, so she shrugged out of it. “Do your worst, villain, but the Bitch of the Brine will never beg.” Fine, so maybe she’d beg a little.
He gripped his bottom lip between his teeth and studied her. Did he have any idea how sexy that was? Probably. After all, he was an arrogant, egotistical, and really hot bastard.
And then he smiled, a wicked tilt to his full lips. “Let me explain what I have planned for you.” He took another step closer, and she took another one back.
She was almost backed against the naked body of Eric the Disobedient. In her mind she could feel the fevered heat of his body, the pressure of his bare flesh pressed to her back, and the prodding of his hard sex against her spine. As he writhed to free himself, or maybe to cop a better feel, his balls would slide across her bare behind. Just the thought of all that intimate contact weakened her knees. She didn’t even notice when the first drops of rain began to fall.
Talk about a split personality . . . Eric’s pirate-captain self watched as Donna gazed up at him, her eyes hot with growing sexual excitement. His physical body was definitely in the wrong place right now. If he were on the ship instead of waiting for his next paying customer, he could deliver on his erotic suggestions in a way that his talk-show lady would never forget. But he’d have to work with what he had.