Her gaze dropped to his proud erection. A hazy, lust-filled expression fell like a shroud across her face. Her lips twitched as if holding back a smile. Christ, she was surely the daughter of Satan disguised as an angel sent to torture him to his death. She bit her bottom lip again when she could no longer contain the smile. “Glorious,” she said, mimicking him.
He groaned, control obliterated.
Valeryn sank to his knees, and crawled up her body to claim her mouth. She grasped his arms as he forced her to lie back. His need screamed for release. But he resisted. He’d take as much time touching her, tasting her, becoming one with her as he could eke out. God willing.
She arched her back up to press her bosom further into the hand kneading her breast. Fascinated by its size, its supple firmness, he descended, taking his fascination into his mouth. A sweet moan drifted to his ears. He suckled her, flicked his tongue over the pebbled nipple, grazed it with his teeth, and suckled some more. Valeryn could bury his face in the warmth and comfort of her chest for all eternity. And would but for the lure of carnal deliverance.
Unwilling to release one breast any longer than to switch sides to suckle the other with equal attention, his uninjured hand coasted down to her juncture. Soft curls brushed his fingers. No time for a leisurely discovery. He had to smother the primal screams in his head. Valeryn dipped a digit deep inside her damp channel. Catalina tensed and shuddered. He dragged his slick fingertip out over her nub, swirled and dipped back inside. She tilted her hips up to receive his greedy finger ramming deep in and out. Moans and sighs murmured in tempo with his voracious tongue and prodding finger. Her hands skated over his shoulders and back as if she didn’t know what to do with them. Or maybe she did, for every place she touched left a burning path, fueling his already overloaded arousal.
Valeryn was ready to pop. He wedged himself between her legs where she willingly cradled him. His mouth found her as he eased his length over her wet folds, sliding through them, coating the underside of his shaft. One pass, two passes, three, he could stand no more. He urged himself at her entrance. Slow and easy, he slid inside. So deliriously tight. Her breath hitched in their kiss. Deeper he pushed, deeper the breath she held.
He gazed upon her face frozen with her mouth slightly parted. God, she was even more beautiful this way. He grasped her face. “Look at me,” he ground out. “That’s it. Look at me, belladonna, as I give you what you want.”
She bared her teeth, let go of the breath.
He eased out and plunged back into her sheath and soon fell into a rhythm. Tight walls cinched him in friction, heightening the pressure.
Catalina kept her eyes locked with his as she tilted her hips and rocked into him with his every plunge. She tried to wrap her legs around his waist to no avail. She was simply too small. Her hands gripped his arse, fingers digging into him as if to force him deeper inside. He glanced down at her breasts bouncing, swaying to his thrusts. Christ, she felt so wonderful, was more gorgeous than anything he’d ever laid eyes upon.
Sea breezes cooled the sweat prickling his skin. His grunts, her musical moans joined in the chorus of the nearby gentle waves and calls of gulls flying overhead. Salt mingled with the musky scent of their union. Each sensation drove him closer to the edge.
He leaned up, briefly disengaging, and sat back on his knees. Grabbing the back of her thighs, he pushed them back so that her knees nearly touched the ground and her feet lifted to the sky. Her cunny was spread wide before him. Her head fell back when he impaled her. She whimpered as he beat into her more urgently. So close, so damned close. Balls slapped against her buttocks, jolting the pressure. Faster. Harder. His vision clouded. He would burst any moment.
“Catalina.”
At the sound of her name, she cried out, her back arching. He didn’t stop. Pounded deep, grunting loud. One last thrust, and he pulled out on the crest of bursting, grabbing his staff. White lights flashed in his head, his muscles stiffened. He roared upon an explosion, his cock convulsing in his hand.
Blind, weak, he pumped out the last vestiges of his seed. A moment later, he gazed upon the beauty staring back under half-hooded eyes. Her body glistened and she heaved for breath just as he.
Catalina reached down to her belly and rubbed her palm through his seed. Holy mother... She was so hot. Valeryn dove down to take her mouth into a hungry kiss. He wouldn’t think on how he’d altered his future. Nay. For the next few moments, he’d revel in the ecstasy.
When he tore his lips away he rested his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. Deep down, he knew something wasn’t right. Well, beyond the fact that he just secured his fate with an executioner. He should have been thoroughly sated. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t satisfied. He wanted more. More of Catalina. Nay, not wanted. Needed. He needed more of her like a drunk needed more tipple, or a fiend needed more laudanum. But that could not be. He had enough tendencies to put him on a chopping block. He didn’t need to add her, for both of their sakes.
“’Twas better than I have dreamed,” Catalina whispered.
He smiled and pulled back, cupping her cheek. “Aye.” She turned into his palm. He couldn’t resist from rubbing his thumb over her swollen lips. She was so intoxicating. A familiar tingle twitched in his cock. Given a little more time and petting, he’d be ready to take her again.
No. This ended now. Before he made yet more mistakes.
Valeryn sat back, and she sat up. “You are an amazing woman, belladonna, but this cannot go further. Nay, will not go further.”
She placed her hand to his chest, skimming her nails across the plain over his heart. “You do not mean that.” Her gaze wandered over his body before settling upon his face. “Tell me you didn’t feel what I felt.”
Hells bells, his entire world staggered and turned upside down. But that might have been because he’d never faced certain death, and caused the death of others, for partaking an eager golden apple. His racing blood, the thrill of the danger, his fast and loose defiance surely added to the titillation he experienced in union with Catalina.
“You got what you wanted,” he said.
“We both did.”
“And now we are done.”
She shook her head. “I won’t allow it.”
He gripped her wrist and pulled away her hand, immediately missing the scorching touch her fingertips traced. She mewled. Damnation, he held her bandaged arm too tightly. He let go only to grab the back of her head, digging his fingers into the braid of her hair. She had to understand the importance of staying away from each other. He’d been weak, but too many lives depended on this. “No more seduction. No more coitus. And you will speak to no one of this, just as you promised you would not do.” Valeryn pulled her nose-to-nose. “Are we clear?”
For a moment, Catalina shrunk from the threat in Valeryn’s tone. What had she expected? That after intimate coupling he’d whisper honeyed words and grandiose promises in her ear? Had she really thought anything would change? Or that all ill consequences would vanish? It had become abundantly clear she hadn’t thought at all beyond this point. How stupid of her. She hadn’t learned from her scandal with Simeon at all—led solely by her selfish wants in spite of others.
“We are clear, Valeryn.” She blinked back the moisture creeping into her eyes. “But I am not sorry for what we have done.”
Valeryn let go of her hair and released a long, frustrated growl. “Fortunes gained by pirates are often spent as quickly as earned, for they know their merry life is but a short one. What little remorse we feel is not wasted on pleasures we reap.”
He stood, apparently unashamed by his shaft being eye-level. She only had to lean in a little...
“Get dressed.” He turned and retrieved his trousers. The muscles of his powerful thighs and arse were a thing of beauty in motion. And when he bent to scoop up their clothing, she may have whimpered.
She still hadn’t gathered her shift by the time he’d buckled his belt. And when he caught her staring, he cleare
d his throat and frowned. “Dressed. Now.”
Very well. But she resolved she’d have him again. She must. They were too good together. Hadn’t he admitted to just that? Sí, she agreed they would not strum again. But for once in her life, she didn’t believe she’d uphold her word. She was just as likely to break it as a pirate was to steal.
Ah, but she’d be careful, calculating. ’Twas all about opportunity, to seize upon it at the precise moment. Huh...maybe she was more like a pirate than she thought.
A cannon boomed in the distance. They both froze. Another boom followed.
“Shit! Finish dressing. We must get back to the ship.”
“What?” Catalina didn’t bother with laces and the like. She’d finish putting herself together in the long boat. She raced to the water to fetch her bag of samples. “What is it?”
“They found us.” He dumped their belongings into the boat. “Big John was to signal me the moment they did.”
Catalina didn’t like the sound of that. She had to tamp down her rising fear. ’Twas a difficult task with the captain hurrying her into the boat. “Who? Who found us?”
“I do not know. But they tailed us after leaving Île-à-Vache.”
As he rowed them through the archipelago coves and along island shores, Valeryn’s stern gaze buried her under heaps of uncertainty. He’d only look away long enough to gather bearing and steer the boat around mangrove roots and sandbars. It seemed in those brief moments, the tension in her neck and shoulders eased. Did he curse her for what they’d done, despite saying otherwise? Didn’t lovers say what they did not mean while the aftermath of lust still kept a visceral hold? Did it not take time for the mind to clear and reality to come crashing back? Was he angry at her again? Mayhap he was thinking of what lie ahead at Amalia.
Mayhap she was a knot of emotions. After all, she swung from nearly drowning to experiencing ultimate pleasure in less than an hour. Both strengthened her resolve. She had but one life. She intended to make the most of it. What she and Valeryn shared shook her to the core. She suspected he’d bring her more pleasure than Simeon. Dios, had he. But Simeon paled by comparison. He was nothing more than the tutor he was employed to be.
Catalina focused on Valeryn’s muscles bulging as he rowed them through the surf. She focused their strength. His strength. He cared about the people around him, even though his rough exterior hid it well. She knew their time together meant more to him than he let on. There was no comfort in that revelation. Valeryn, what she shared with him, had awoken a desperation within her soul. And she didn’t welcome it as she once did. ’Twas deeper, darker, and she feared she wouldn’t be able to rid herself of it.
Valeryn’s eyelids narrowed. She prayed her thoughts weren’t plastered upon her face.
They’d cleared the channel between two peninsulas. Her heart thudded at the ominous sight ahead of their little boat. Amalia sat in the open water. On the not-so distant horizon was another ship, her sails fully opened.
“When we get back to the ship, be prepared to go to your cabin.”
“Do you expect trouble?” She hoped he didn’t notice the quiver in her voice.
“I always expect trouble, lass.”
None too soon, she found herself back on the Amalia.
The crew gathered around as Valeryn boarded. Many faces in the crowd were worried, still more fearful. Oh, she did not like the looks of that. Something terrible was going to happen.
Cocklyn, Henri, Big John, Dawson, and Benito came forward, but kept an unusual distance. Each of them wore a grim frown.
“Who is she?” Valeryn demanded. He slowly studied each man, knowing that what they had to say was bad, waiting for one to deliver the news. “Well? Out with it.”
Cocklyn shuffled a step out of the circle. “Rissa, sir.”
Valeryn cocked his head. “Say again?”
“She’s the Rissa, Capt’n.”
CHAPTER 16
“Oh, what luck!” A wave of relief washed over Catalina. Valeryn would be reunited with his ship. He’d have his crew and his guns to see them safely back to Matanzas. ’Twas a splendid turn of events.
So why did everyone look at her as if she just insulted their mothers?
“This is good, no?”
“’Bout as good as bein’ bone dry fer the rest of yer life,” Henri muttered.
“I don’t understand,” Catalina said. “That is your ship. How is that bad?”
Valeryn stood at the gunwale with his back to the crew staring at Rissa on the horizon. “The guns, John?”
“Ready, Capt’n.”
“Why would you need your guns?” An edge of panic rooted in her composure.
He slowly turned around. “The entire motivation to make this journey a success rests not with my neck, but those of the crew and that ship.” He pointed to the majestic vessel marching forward. “She is here for one of two reasons. First, the crew managed to regain her and has sailed out to relieve us. Or she has been sent here to destroy us.”
“Destroy us? Your men would betray you?”
Valeryn glanced at Henri. They stared at one another for several heartbeats until Valeryn’s gaze hit the deck. “Had they escaped your uncle and his gaurda costa, they would cut and run, not be coming for me.”
“Then they are here to assist us,” she said, still trying to grasp why they needed the guns.
“Again. If they had succeeded in an escape, it would stand to reason they would not go to their captain where they would be found.”
“Then why are they here?” Luis from the Spaniard crew asked.
“Because they are not my crew,” Valeryn stated.
Hushed voices rippled throughout the ship.
Catalina was beginning to understand. Whoever was on the Rissa was a hunter. And she didn’t fancy being hunted. “Then who are they?”
“I do not know. Yet. Whoever they are, they’ve made a fatal mistake by stealing my ship. We shall meet my usurper.”
“’Tis suicide. We are outgunned.” Fraco pushed to the front of the crowd. His brow was taut with grim grooves of uneasiness. “We run.”
Run? That was a complete turnabout for Fraco. The last time, with the Royal Navy, he was geared to fight.
“Pipe down, boy,” Henri barked. “The Rissa, she’s fast. We’d never outrun ’er.”
“We see what this is about.” Valeryn strode mid-ship. “Know this. Rissa is well-armed. She can decimate us with her firepower in a matter of minutes. Our guns are for defense, and will be used as such only upon my command.” He slowly turned in a circle addressing the entire crew. “Should we be forced to fire upon her, her hull is not to be damaged. Sheets, rigging, and any bastard raising a weapon against us will be our target. Is that clear?”
The Spaniard crew could be separated into those willing to fight and those afraid for their lives by their body language. Some bowed up, others shrunk. Some embraced the impending danger, others were better served to get the ship ready for an escape. Catalina couldn’t blame them. When they left Matanzas, they were merely sailors. These past few weeks had hardened them to a different way of surviving on the sea. Even she had deadened some of her feminine sensibilities. Not that she had an overabundance to begin with.
“We’d be wise to be ready to flee at a moment’s notice,” Valeryn continued. “Riggers need to be at the ready. Benito, have the chest of guns brought out. We are not dealing with the Royal Navy this time. Any chance for a peaceful resolution is slim. A stark truth.”
Not what Catalina wanted to hear.
“Anyone,” he lanced Fraco with a warning glare, “anyone who disregards my orders will be shot on sight.”
Fraco’s lip curled at the threat. Catalina came to stand beside him, looping her hand around his arm. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” she said.
Her primo patted her hand in a warm gesture. “No, it won’t be necessary.” Fraco looked down at her bandaged wrist, and studied her wrinkled, damp, slightly askew clothing with
the tilt of his head. A repulsed huff issued from his scowling mouth, and then yanked away from her grip. He stormed off to help with rigging.
“Miss Montoya,” Valeryn said. “It will be pointless to ask you to return to your cabin.”
“Sí, ’twill.” She would not go below without knowing what, if any, danger they faced.
“Keep quiet and out of the way.” The captain strode away, grabbing the spyglass Henri offered along the way.
Catalina did her best to stay out of the way, but she kept as close to Valeryn as she could without pushing him to lock her in her cabin. Staying close meant she’d find out sooner rather than later any turn of event. Yet, with his cutty-eyed glances toward her, she had the feeling having her back on Matanzas would be a suitable distance. Even then, that might not be far enough.
As the two ships closed the gap between them, Catalina decided to give Valeryn a few minutes respite. She’d retrieve her ivory-handle pistol from her quarters to give her some measure of control, granting ’twould only be in her mind.
The moment she stepped through the door, she wished she’d stayed topside.
Nalda peered up from her needlepoint. She took one look at Catalina and the gray-topped hoods over her eyes disappeared in surprise and just as quickly came crashing back into an earnest scowl. She set her work upon the table and placed her hands in her lap in the same manner a mother might before she reprimanded a child for sneaking off with a freshly baked tart. Only Catalina wasn’t sneaking. And not with a tart. Though Valeryn was more delicious than a tart.
She pointed to Catalina’s wrist. “¿Qué te pasó?”
Catalina waved it off and stepped to the dresser. “I cut it on the reef. I will be fine.”
“¿Díos exitoso?”
“When you say successful, I assume you mean did I get what I wanted.” She pulled out fresh clothing and began to shed her damp dress for a dry one. “Sí.”
“¿El capitán?”
“Sí.”
She bolstered herself for Nalda’s inquisition, hoping whatever torturous berating the maid delivered would not last long. Instead, the questions she asked were not at all what she expected, albeit no less uncomfortable than being strapped to the rack. Did he kiss her before they copulated? Did he kiss her after? In what position were they? How long did he last? What had he said?
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