But what if the only thing I want is on that ship, it occurs to me as I stare at Daari’s outline in the porthole, her pretty round face serious and strong, her brown eyes focused and ready, like she knows what’s coming, like she’s ready for what’s coming, like she understands just like I do that out here on the open ocean the rules don’t apply, that you’re at the mercy of nature’s forces, the universe’s mysteries.
Yes, the open sea is where a man faces his fate, I think as a strange electricity courses through my body. All I can hear is the roar of the ocean, and it feels like time has slowed down. The Princess’s men have opened fire, but I just smile lazily as my men take cover from the oncoming bullets and my ship cuts through the waves like butter. I haven’t touched a bottle of rum in years, but I feel drunk as I stand here and try to interpret what my instincts are telling me, what my body is telling me, what the energy of the ocean is telling me.
“Hard to starboard,” I mutter to my first mate, glancing over at him as my own words surprise me. But it’s my instinct talking, and I know better than to second-guess my instinct. So I issue the order to turn once more. “Hard starboard. Pull up alongside the ship.”
“But Captain!” says my first mate, his eyes going wide as he glances over at me to make sure I’m not losing it. “The deal was to sink her!”
“I’m changing the deal,” I snap back, pushing away the thought that I just made this whole thing very fucking complicated. “We aren’t going to sink her. We’re going to board her.”
Two of my other men turn their heads in shock when they hear my command. I can read them as clear as a billboard. They’re scared. They’re all armed, but it’s been years since we actually boarded a ship and engaged in a goddamn battle! Am I making a mistake here? A mistake that could cost lives—the lives of my men? Am I being betrayed by . . . by my cock?!
Now most of my men are staring at me, and I can almost smell the mutiny in the air. The conflict is so thick I could slice it with my cutlass. If I had a cutlass. Fuck, what am I doing?!
“Trust me,” I say as I look every one of my crew in the eye, knowing that I’ve earned the respect of these men and they will stand down and follow my order. It takes a moment, but my first mate grunts, shakes his head, and then turns hard starboard.
My thoughts go back to the Princess, to that sense that just from seeing her alone out on that upper deck I know something about her. I know she’s bold but still respectful of tradition. I know she’s comfortable with herself but still conscious of how the outside world sees her. I know she’ll see that I’ve chosen not to sink her and so she’ll ask her guards to hold their fire.
I also know one more thing about her.
Yes, I think as that image of Princess Daari standing proudly beneath the open skies comes back to me and makes me stiffen and almost groan out loud: I do know one more thing about her.
I know she’s mine.
By the Gods of the Wild Sea, she’s mine!
3
DAARI
“The choice was mine,” I say to the tall, broad, darkly handsome man who’s clearly the leader of this rag-tag crew of Mediterranean pirates. “If I hadn’t ordered my men to stand down, all of you would be full of bulletholes so big the rats on your ship would move in.”
“Guns don’t work when you’re at the bottom of the ocean, Princess,” he replies with a lopsided grin, crossing his arms over his bare chest and standing tall in a way that makes my breath catch. His accent is exotic, a mix of Greek and Italian with a hint of England in there. He’s wearing nothing but breeches, their natural brown color faded by the sun, washed out by the rain. His body is bronzed and glistening, muscles contoured like the rolling sand dunes of Dikaana, long black hair tousled and thrown like the wind itself, stubble rough and rugged, a jawline that matches the brutal helm of his pirate ship, green eyes that shine with experience and hardness, like this man has seen things most men will never come close to seeing, like he’s done things most men wouldn’t dream of doing.
This feels like a dream, I think as I blink again and do my best to keep my composure. I admit I was scared when I saw his ship cutting through the waves, heading straight for us, ready to ram hard and deep, all the way deep, ohgod so deep . . .
My breath catches again as I feel that tingle down there, and I’m shocked at my reaction to this man’s presence. I remind myself that this man is a criminal. A thief. Probably a murderer. My bodyguards stopped firing at my command, but they’re nervous and ready. People could die if I lose my composure—if anyone loses their composure in this surreal standoff on the high seas!
“Fair enough,” I say, forcing myself to breathe, doing my best to ignore the way this man is looking at me. Was he the one at the other end of the telescope? Did he see me half naked? See me like no man has ever seen me? Is that why he gave the command to board my ship instead of breach its hull and sink us? But why would he want to sink us anyway? Isn’t it significantly harder to pillage and plunder when you’ve already sunk your target?
I’m about to ask this genius pirate precisely that, but I hold my tongue. I can sense that this man’s crew are on edge too, just like my men. This is a dangerous, volatile situation. Explosive like a box of gunpowder. Think, Daari. Think. You’re about to be Queen. One of your tasks is going to be dealing with macho men who think they can bully their way into getting what they want. How are you going to find a diplomatic solution to this problem? How are you going to find a way out that doesn’t involve a bunch of idiots shooting at each other until everyone’s dead?!
Negotiation 101, I think as I go back over all the books I’ve read in my isolated life. Find out what your opponent wants.
So what does he want, I ask myself as I narrow my gaze and look into the pirate captain’s dark green eyes. What does this man want?
He wants YOU!
The answer bursts up from inside me in a way that makes me almost gasp out loud. After years of spending time alone, living a sheltered life in a walled palace with no siblings, no school friends, no real relationship with even my parents, I developed a rich inner life, fed by books and imagination. As a child I happily talked to myself, sometimes having detailed conversations with the “inner me” as I perfected my English, learned French, Spanish, and Italian, studied economics and politics and everything in between. But I’ve never actually had that inner me speak so clearly it’s like a voice in my head! That’s what happens to mad people, isn’t it? Am I going mad? Like really mad?
I’m not going mad, I think as I slowly nod and exhale, understanding that both this man and I need to be very careful about what we say out here in the open, in front of our respective crews. My head is buzzing with energy, my body tingling with excitement, that inner voice whispering up a storm behind my big brown eyes as I stare up at this tall, swarthy pirate who looks the part except for the eye patch and parrot.
“We can talk in my chambers,” I say softly, lowering my voice but keeping my tone steady, doing my best to project an authority that makes it clear I’m not surrendering, not giving in, not submitting.
I feel my attendants gasp, sense my head of security flinch, feel the tension rise amongst all my bodyguards. They’re sworn to protect me, but they’re also sworn to obey my every command. Hopefully my men won’t have to choose between their obligations.
“We’ll talk in my chambers, Princess,” says the pirate calmly.
I shake my head and smile, even though a chill goes through me at being called Princess. Does he know who I am?! Or is he just a sexist pig from the West who calls all women “princess” or “sweet-cheeks” or what have you. “I’m not stepping on your rat-infested boat. This is my only offer. Do not worry. You’ll be safe.” I glance down at his feet, frowning when I see that the man is barefoot like an animal. I blink when I notice how big his feet are, thinking back to that old wives’ tale about what the size of a man’s feet tell you
about his . . .
Ya Allah, I just looked at his crotch, I think as my gaze drops down past his hard, lean stomach, down past the waistband of his low-hanging breeches, down to that massive bulge that makes it look like he’s . . . like he’s . . . ohmygod, is he actually . . .
I hurriedly blink and refocus back on the man’s face, but the moment I look into his eyes I see that he didn’t miss a thing. The color rushes to my face as I swallow hard. Then I blink again when the pirate glances back at one of his men, nods as if he’s putting that man in charge, and simply hurdles over the railing of his ship, landing on my deck with a soft thud and a big grin.
“If I’m not back in an hour,” he calls out casually to his men as he straightens to full height and keeps his eyes on me. “Kill them all and sink her.”
4
DESH
I want to sink myself, I think as I follow the Princess down the air-conditioned hallway, my gaze fixed on her round ass as she walks with perfect posture—posture that can’t stop those wide hips from swinging the way a woman’s hips are supposed to swing. Sink myself into her! Bloody hell, is she doing this on purpose? Did she see how hard I was standing there on the deck, my cock yearning to break free and plunder and pillage her from the inside?! Is she playing me the way women have played men for millions of years, using whatever advantage she has to get what she wants?
And what does she want, I wonder as she stops in front of an intricately carved wooden door that’s wide enough for a sperm whale to swim through. Her scent comes to me as I stop beside her, my body close to hers, my hardness pushing my breeches out in the most obscene, most undeniable way.
“You smell like the desert,” I say without thinking, leaning in so close I almost push my face into her thick black hair. I blink as I back up, wondering what the hell has come over me. My mind swirls like I’m falling under a spell, and I wonder if this woman is a witch and I’m being charmed into letting my guard down. In ten minutes I could be lying on her smooth teakwood floorboards, my throat slit, my cock still throbbing, the gods, angels, and demons all laughing and shaking their heads as another macho man decides that his balls know better than his fucking brain!
“And you smell like rat dung,” she replies without a moment’s hesitation, her brown eyes twinkling as I snort with surprised laughter.
“You seem to know a lot about rats,” I say with a grin. “Childhood trauma? Would you like to talk about it, Princess?”
“Trust me,” she says as she opens the door and gestures for me to enter first. “You do not want to get into a psychological profiling contest with me. You might not like what you hear.”
I laugh again, stepping into the sprawling chambers and looking around in awe. The furniture is all hand-carved teakwood, heavy and old, sitting firmly atop intricately woven silk-and-goldleaf carpets that probably cost more than my ship! Above us is a chandelier of fine Austrian crystal, and against the far wall is a beautiful oval mirror that’s studded with jewels the size of my goddamn eyeballs. The loot in this room alone would finance my men’s retirement!
“Oh, I’ve heard it all, Princess,” I say with a grin, turning to face her as she closes the door and stands as tall as she can, her curvy body unable to hide behind her loose black robe, her beauty bursting forth like the sun after a sea-storm. She’s mine and she knows it, I think with a confidence that scares me. Once again I wonder if I’m under some sort of spell, falling for the oldest trick in the goddamn book. I think back to what I was told about Daari, about how she’s cold, calculating, ruthless. “And so have you, I imagine.” Then I pause and shrug, narrowing my eyes. “Or maybe not. You are royalty, after all. You probably spent your life hearing only what you wanted to hear. Everyone telling you how smart you are, how beautiful you are, how perfect you are.”
Hell, she is smart, she is beautiful, she is perfect, I think as I swallow hard and try to hold my fierce expression even though I feel myself falling deeper under this woman’s spell. A part of me wants to take a knee before this curvy Princess . . . take a knee and then push my face into that royal V between her thighs. Her cunt probably smells like roses, tastes like honey. By God, I want her!
“You do understand that your comment says more about you than it does about me,” she answers, her tone matching mine, her expression firm and unwavering.
“Oh, really? What does it say about me, Princess?” I say, swallowing hard as I force myself to get my mind out from between her legs.
“It says you’re pompous, presumptuous, and prejudiced,” she says with a tiny smile.
“Nice alliteration,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Even if what you said is complete crap.”
She frowns, her eyebrows moving as anger flashes across her pretty face. It only lasts a second, but that’s long enough for me to see that she’s got fire in her. Pride in her. Royal blood that burns strong.
Again I feel my cock move, my balls tighten, my body react to the thought of my seed filling her womb, my bloodline combining with hers. The thought shocks me, and I’m unprepared for the emotional impact, the sudden realization that I don’t just want to fuck this Princess’s brains out, but I want to make babies with her, I want to raise a family with her, I want everything with her!
I take a step back as I swallow hard and force myself to come back to reality, to the situation we’re in. We’ve got a bunch of men with itchy trigger fingers on the decks above us. I’m facing off against a woman who’s probably smarter than me, more educated than me, who’s already got me twisted and turned just from the way her goddamn hips moved as I followed her to her chambers! This could be a trap, Desh. You’re smarter than this. Put your fucking brain back in charge!
But still my body throws up images of me and Daari together, sailing the Seven Seas with our children, riding across sand dunes that look like waves, making gentle love under blue skies, fucking like beasts in storm winds, ruling land and sea and everything in between like it’s our goddamn destiny! This is instinct, pure and simple, I realize as I remember what I felt when I saw Daari through my scope, felt like I knew her, like I was born to know her, to love her, to fucking claim her.
Instinct, I think again as I feel the swell of the ocean beneath us, a reminder that out here instinct means the difference between life and death. What does your instinct say? Who do you trust?
“Your stepmother,” I say, looking back at her as I decide in a flash that there’s no playing games with this woman. We don’t have much time, and besides, I’m not good at psychological games. I drive straight ahead, ram into my target, and take what I want. This woman is what I want, and so I’m just going to barrel straight ahead. Fuck it. This could well end in a shootout with everyone dead in an hour, so what the hell.
“What about her?” says Daari, cocking her head and frowning like what I said is totally incomprehensible.
“She hired me,” I say softly.
Daari’s still frowning like she doesn’t even understand the words I’m saying. “Hired you to do what?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Did it not even occur to you that I was hired to sink your ship? Do you think I’d earn a living as a pirate if I just sunk every ship without bothering to plunder it first? What am I, an idiot?”
Daari glances down at my bare feet and then back up into my eyes. “The thought had occurred to me,” she says.
I exhale and nod. “That I was hired to murder you?”
“No, that you’re an idiot,” she says with a straight face. “My stepmother is a shy, quiet woman who spent her life in the service of her husband the king. Even when given the opportunity to be in the spotlight, she declined. She knew when she married the king that she’d never be in line for the throne, and in fact the last thing she wants is to be queen. Trust me, someone’s playing a trick on you. My stepmother isn’t capable of . . . of . . .” Daari pauses as if she’s only just understanding how serious I am. But then
she shakes her head firmly and continues. “My stepmother isn’t capable of ordering a murder. She didn’t even attend the public executions that sadly were major events in Dikaana. Besides, she was always very nice to me, even though I was mostly raised by myself. You’re wrong, Mr. Pirate.”
I snort, my eyebrows still raised. I believe every word she says—or rather, I believe that she believes every word she’s just said. “I’m rarely wrong, Princess,” I say softly, seeing the innocence behind her big brown eyes. “And in my experience, no one knows what truly lies within another person’s heart. Sometimes we don’t even know what lies within our own hearts.”
My heart thrums as if to remind me it knows exactly what lies within it, what it desires, what it needs. I want to kiss her, I think as I gaze upon her full lips, her smooth brown cheeks, the curve of her neck. But I can’t do it. Not yet. There’s something I’m missing here. Perhaps something she’s missing too. Who’s playing whom here? Are we both being played? Is there someone else pulling the strings?
“My name is Desh,” I say, realizing that she just called me “Mr. Pirate” as if we’re in a goddamn fairy tale.
“Daari,” she says absentmindedly, blinking as if she’s been wondering what the hell’s going on just like I am.
“I know,” I say with a grin.
“Right,” she says, looking down briefly before glancing back up into my eyes. “OK, Desh. So someone hired you to kill me. Well, why didn’t you kill me? Or try, at least.”
My heart slams against my chest from the inside, and I wonder if I can tell her the truth. But what is the goddamn truth?! That I know she’s mine? I’d sound like an idiot! Like a lonely sailor who thinks he’s in love with the first woman he sees after pulling into port!
But the question is out there and I need to answer it. And so I do. I answer the question. I answer it the way my body yearns to answer it. I answer it the only way I can, with my lips but without words.
Curvy for Him: The Princess and the Pirate Page 2