Maiden Voyage

by Dreama Faire

  His touch startled her and she opened her eyes. He grasped her busy fingers and pulled them away from her pussy. She gasped as he pulled her up to a sitting position, then off the bed.

  He released her hand and stepped away from her. "Go to the chair, lean over the back."

  She quickly did as she was told. An old fashioned, heavily stuffed armchair faced the window. She rolled her torso over the top edge, a position that hoisted her ass into the air. Nick appeared in front of her holding a fistful of colorful scarves. He expertly wrapped one around each of her wrists, then tied them tightly to the chair arms.

  She raised an eyebrow. "Been shopping, I see. What other delights did you find?"

  He didn't respond, his face shadowed with intent. A tiny rush of concern tickled her brain. For all her earlier concerns about who he might be, she was again a willing captive to his desires. He slipped a pillow under her chin, then disappeared from her view. Seconds later, she felt his tongue lapping across her butt cheeks, and anticipation rocketed up through her crotch. He pulled her legs apart, then lashed them securely to the legs of the chair with more of the silky fabric.

  She felt his tongue again, this time moving down the small of her back toward her butt crack. His fingers slipped between her swollen pussy lips and circled the plump flesh around her clit, teasing her to a whimpering frenzy. She writhed helplessly, trying to force his fingers into contact with her clit, but he danced them around the edges of her cunt until she thought she'd scream. Then, a long finger plunged into her, hard and sharp, and she gasped with surprise. He pulled it out, then jammed it back in.

  "Good, eh? Cunt nice and big now from cucumber. Easy to fuck."

  He pressed a slippery fingertip against her butt hole, while he plundered her cunt with his other hand, two fingers pressing and probing. She was desperate to push against his urgency, heighten her pleasure, but her bound and straddled position left her helpless to move. The submissive situation drove her passion to new heights.

  A second later, he grabbed her hips and the tip of his thick cock brushed her throbbing lips.

  "Yes, Nick, do it! Do it hard!"

  His voice rasped with animal urgency. "I fuck you so hard you never forget it."

  To her dismay, he only moved the head of his erection across her clit, back and forth, driving her lust over the top.

  "Nick, please!"

  "Beg me, Lovable. I can't fuck you unless you beg for it."

  "I am begging!" She writhed beneath the bindings that held her firmly.

  "Tell me you want to suck my cock."

  She could barely breathe, but the image of swallowing his huge penis sent a surge of desire through her belly and into her clit. She felt the orgasm waking deep in her belly.

  "Oh, my God, yes! I'll do anything you want. Just fuck me now!"

  "No. Say it!"

  "I want to suck your cock—yes—please."

  The hot head of his cock slipped along the crease of her ass, stopping at the opening. She gasped raggedly.

  His tone taunted her. "No? You don't want it this way?"

  She closed her eyes and fought back the tears. Her body was screaming for release and his torment was more than she could bear. She shook her head.

  "Tell me! Say exactly what you want me to do to you. I want to hear the words."

  Was it a trap? If she spoke, would she be breaking the rules? Would he leave her, tied and shuddering with need?

  She swallowed hard, and whispered. "I want anything you want to do." She tensed her muscles, reeling with the frightening anticipation of his cock pumping into her ass.

  Slowly, the rigid shaft moved away from her anus and slipped into her pussy, the flared tip passing through her tight cunt muscles, and sending shattering shocks of pleasure through her. She felt the ripples and ticklers of another erotic teaser condom, and she exhaled, relaxing her body to take all of him. He stopped, then pulled his cock back out to the mouth of her cunt. Her legs began to tremble and her breath came in short bursts. He moved the tip slowly back through the entrance to her cunt, this time moving almost halfway into her, then stopping. Again, he slowly dragged his instrument of torture back out.

  He began to talk to her, his voice deep with intent. "Mmm, nice and slippery, smooth like sweet cream. Your tight cunt feels like a velvet glove on my cock. Feel good?"

  Good wasn't even close. Every nerve in her body sang with anticipation as his cock slid back into her, each time progressing a tiny bit farther than the previous thrust. Back out, the knobby tip teasing the lips of her cunt.

  "More, deeper," she whimpered.

  He immediately plunged into her, impaling her, burying his cock as deep as it would go, flattening her body against the rough upholstery. He held her hips tightly, pumping hard, in and out, his breath loud and raspy as he grunted against her, ransacking her soft flesh with his weapon.

  The angle of penetration left her clit untouched by his assault, except for the brush of his balls with each thrust. She ached to touch herself, or ask him to touch her. Release lingered at the outer edges of her consciousness as he pounded toward his own climax. A hard thrust and he shouted, rolling his hips against her, again and again. He exhaled sharply and released his hold on her hips. Abruptly, his penis slid out, leaving her empty and unfulfilled.

  Tears of frustration filled her eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him what she needed. Through her disappointment, she felt him untying her legs. A moment later, he gently untied her hands and helped her stand up. He led her around to the front of the chair, and caressed her shoulder.

  "Sit down."

  She gingerly sank into the armchair and leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling, at a loss for words. Why did she feel this way? Something more than sexual frustration was creeping through her chest. The anonymity, which had originally been so intoxicatingly sensual, now seemed barbaric and flawed. She wanted to feel Nick's arms around her, feel his lips on hers, hear him murmur tender nothings to her. Hold hands, walk in the park, talk. Tears burned her lids at the unattainable new fantasy.

  Nick dropped to his knees in front of the chair, and slipped his hands under her buttocks, pulling her forward to the edge of the seat. He lifted her legs and laid them on his shoulders, then buried his face in her crotch, sending all disappointment from her thoughts.

  "Oh, God yes," she whispered.

  She needed no silk bonds to succumb to this ecstasy. His finger teased the tight, sensitive skin around her anus, and another finger slipped easily into her cunt while his tongue moved through the creases of her pussy and captured her throbbing clit. Her pulse began to thump in her ears, and her breath came in short jerky gasps as every nerve focused on taking her over the top of her passion. His voracious licking stopped, and he sucked hard on her swollen clit, eliciting incredible sensations that seethed across her skin. Two fingers plundered her hot soaked cunt and pulsed against the core of her passion. At the same time, he pulled her clit with his teeth, nibbling, sucking, his tongue pressing into the tiny cleft just below it. Unbearable heat crawled over her neck as her need built into a torrent, rushing at breakneck speed toward orgasm. She arched her back, urgently pressing her throbbing, aching flesh against his mouth and fingers, spasms jerking her hips as he held her clit captive, and slid his finger into her ass. The fingers inside her cunt found the G-spot and molten heat flooded her body. She bucked against him, every muscle and nerve snapping violently as she came.

  24

  Amanda listened to her pulse thud steadily in her ears, a deep hum of pleasure singing through her veins as her body slowly recovered from its joy-ride. Nick's voice drifted from between her legs like music on the sex-scented air.

  "You are very beautiful. You know that, don't you?"

  With effort, she lifted her heavy head from the back of the chair and gazed down at him. His expression sent a flutter through her stomach, not of anticipation, but of recognition. His eyes held no animal lust, only tenderness.

  "No on
e's ever told me that before."

  He brushed his lips across her thigh, murmuring into her skin, "Blind men."

  He stroked the outsides of her thighs for a moment. Then, gently, he lifted her legs from his shoulders, and rocked back on his heels and stood, gazing at her with an intensity that sent her stomach on a roller coaster.

  He disappeared into the bathroom, but reappeared a few moments later, smiling mischievously.

  "Let's eat."

  She struggled to her feet, her enervated muscles and frazzled nerves rebelling at the call to work. One of her legs buckled, and Nick quickly grabbed her shoulders, steadying her with his strong hands.

  She giggled, shaking her head. "I think I've had too much exercise in the last twenty-four hours."

  He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her bare back, bringing her nakedness to touch his bare torso. Against her belly, his relaxed penis felt soft and warm, and the sensation stirred a new response, not in her loins, but in her heart. This man was no longer a stranger, not simply a fantasy. The erotic fairy tale had ended on the ship, and reality had thrown them together in this tiny hotel room in God-knows-where. A bond was forming between them, a thread no longer connected simply by sex.

  For a long moment neither of them moved. She closed her eyes, then felt his hands on either side of her face—a startling sensation. Slowly, she lifted her lashes to look at him. His features were soft and serene as his eyes searched hers. She waited to hear whatever was on his mind. He didn't speak, but tenderly covered her mouth with his and pulled her into a long, deep kiss—one that plundered her heart.

  She gasped for breath as their lips parted. Nick stepped back and looked away, his body language changing suddenly. When he looked at her again, the pain in his eyes set her pulse racing. What had happened? Why that flash of misery?

  She reached out and caressed his cheek. "Nick? What is it?"

  He was silent for a few moments, then stepped back, his voice husky with emotion.

  "Get dressed. We eat."

  Frustration churned through her thoughts, but she did as he said. Nick was not a man to be pushed or manipulated—that much she already knew about him. A tight band around her chest cautioned her that something vulnerable lay buried deep beneath his mask of confidence.

  A few minutes later, he peeled an orange, broke off a chunk of bread, and placed them in front of her. His tone was level, almost indifferent.

  "When do your teaching duties resume?"

  She blinked, surprised by the neutral ground he'd chosen. "Not until late August. Students return the middle of September."

  She watched him consider her answer, and pondered why he'd asked.

  He concentrated on an orange section while he spoke. "I'm sure you're looking forward to being back with your friends and colleagues."

  There it was again—the perfect English, no trace of accent. If anything, his speech was touched lightly with a hint of the British Isles.

  She leaned on her elbows and narrowed her eyes. "Who are you—really?"

  A shadowy smile passed over his face, and her heart lurched again at the hint of sorrow.

  He exhaled slowly before answering. "A fraud. A nobody with nowhere to go, and a lifetime to get there."

  She waited, the silence widening into a yawning chasm between them.

  Finally, he met her gaze. "Why do you care?"

  A surge of emotion swelled through her chest and she reached across the tiny table to touch his fingers.

  "Because, in spite of my crazy desire to be captured by pirates, I've discovered who I am. Because of you. While we've romped through the past two weeks, you've become important to my psyche. I can't imagine how I've survived my non-existence for so many years."

  He smiled. "Pirates, eh?"

  She blushed furiously and tried to withdraw her hand, but Nick hooked his fingers into hers and held fast. His next words rocked her.

  "At least you've 'not-existed' somewhere with a life and a purpose. I've been in an exile of my own making."

  She stared at him, remembering her silly daydream. "Tell me."

  In his eyes, she saw indecision, fear of his vulnerability. His shoulders sagged and he forged ahead.

  "I grew up in Patras, Greece. My father owns the ferry company that serves Italy and the Greek Islands."

  Amanda gazed at the fine structure of his face, now clearly seeing the classic silhouette of early civilization. The musical rhythm of his voice touched her heart.

  "I attended Oxford, earned a degree in business and finance. The plan was to join my father, and someday take over the business." A shadow passed across his face, and his fingers tightened around hers. "I was betrothed to Cassandra, the daughter of an important government official. I should have taken heed of her name."

  He glanced up at Amanda, then answered the unspoken question in her eyes. "Cassandra means 'Prophet of Doom'."

  He released her hand and sat back, staring out the window at the now-bustling street. His tone became detached and emotionless.

  "I accompanied my father on a business trip to America. We stayed in New York City for over a month. On my return..." His face darkened with anger, and Amanda's pulse jerked at the quicksilver change. "I learned that Cassandra had been fucking my brother."

  Amanda inhaled sharply. "What did you do?"

  Immediately, she wished she hadn't asked.

  Nick's dark eyes muddied, cold with fury. "I left my home forever."

  She remained silent, allowing him time to grapple with the rage she could feel rumbling just beneath his control.

  "I signed on with ATLAS and left the traitors behind."

  His shoulders slumped. He looked so beaten, so sad. His heart had been broken and, for that, he'd left his legacy and history. Left his homeland.

  Her heart ached for him. "Nicholas...why did you leave? Surely, you would have met another woman, one who'd appreciate what an honorable man you are."

  "Honor? You know nothing about honor." He rose from the chair and paced angrily. "My honor was destroyed by Cassandra's whoring infidelity!" He wheeled and glowered at her. "My own brother violated my future wife! Do you have any idea what that means in my country?" He snorted and shook his head. "No, of course you don't. In America, everyone plays musical beds, no one gets hurt. American men not proud...they don't care if woman is virgin or not."

  The brief lapse into pigeon English spoke volumes, a blatant symptom of his deeply rooted pain. She waited while he worked through his emotions.

  He stopped pacing and stared down at her. "To uphold my honor, I must kill them both. Is no other way."

  She gasped at the brave declaration. "But—wouldn't you be arrested? Go to prison?"

  His smile was nasty. "Of course! I went to sea instead." He snatched a cigarette pack from the desk and headed toward the door. "I'm going out. Get some sleep."

  25

  Following Nick's abrupt departure, Amanda gazed out the window for a long time at the afternoon street scene. The movements of the villagers became a blur as she sorted through Nick's revelations, one by one. His painful past explained a lot about his personality—at least the one she'd been privy to on the voyage. Somewhere along the line, though, the emotional tide had subtly turned. More specifically, in the galley when he'd rescued her from Boxer's cruel assault.

  A shudder ran across her shoulders at the memory. She rose and moved away from the window, rubbing her arms to dispel the sensation. Nick had saved her, but why? A sense of responsibility? Or something deeper, more personal? His kiss had pulsed with more than just sexual hunger. Tenderness had softened his touch, furrowing into her heart with an intensity that matched any of his lustful seductions.

  She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Was she woman enough to erase Nick's pain? Her thoughts faltered and her shoulders sagged. What did she know about such things? Bringing knowledge to her students through Samuel Beckett and Oscar Wilde—that was her stock in trade, her magic touch. But, delving into the
soul of a tormented man? What could she possibly do to replace his pain with joy?

  Suddenly, she smiled. Exactly the same way he did it for me. Make him feel needed, treasured—loved.

  * * *

  The background drone of men's voices was punctuated occasionally by bursts of raucous laughter while Nick stared into the dark brown beer in front of him.

  "That should eliminate her wishful thinking about staying with me," he whispered to the bubbly brew. His chest tightened at the memory of Amanda's sincere expression while she'd listened to his tirade. She'd been an open and willing receptacle for his venom in more ways than one. He lit another cigarette and took a deep drag. During the past four years, he'd callously screwed any women who'd let him, pummeling their willing bodies with his rage, trying to erase Cassandra's treachery from his mind. But the fact always remained that he'd given up his life because of her. For what purpose? Did anyone really care but himself?

  He recalled the one brief telephone conversation he'd had with his father, a few months earlier. Vasilios Christofis had been adamant that Nick return to Patras. "Your Mama is heartbroken. For her...please come home." Nick had been stubborn, and the conversation had escalated into a shouting match, but before slamming down the phone, he'd learned that his traitorous brother had joined the French Foreign Legion, and Cassandra had married an Italian Count and moved to Rome. Papa's parting shot echoed in Nick's head. "Put your ego aside and come home where you belong."

  The warm, bitter beer crawled down Nick's throat. He stubbed out the cigarette, tossed a coin onto the bar, and strode out the door into the sun-drenched street. As he headed toward the hotel, his pulse quickened. The empty hole in his heart didn't seem quite so large now.

  * * *

  The doorknob rattled, and Amanda's stomach pitched. From now on, the game would be new and different, and she would make the rules. Nick stepped through the door, his face devoid of any telltale expression. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. At least his mood seems better.