Then I push her robe up over her magnificent ass, and before she has a chance to turn, I bring my open palm down hard on her left buttock, the slap ringing out like a rifle-crack as she screams in shock.
She tries to sit up and turn, but I push her back down and spank her again, ripping away her robe and bringing my big palms down on her shuddering asscheeks like paddles, left and right, both together, roaring as I spank her hard and tight. She screams again, but I feel her struggles slow down, and soon I don’t need to hold her down anymore because she’s raising her ass for me, sticking it out as I bring my palms down sharply in a steady, merciless rhythm.
Her breaths are coming in heavy gasps, and I’m so fucking hard I can barely see. Her smooth brown ass is dark red with the force of my slaps, and finally I give her one last tight smack and then jam my face in there, spreading her asscheeks wide with both hands.
She moans and arches her back down as I press my tongue against her rear hole, circling her rim until it’s wet and dripping. With one hand I reach between her thighs and finger her hard, spreading her cunt and pushing three fingers deep inside, curling them up and furiously fingering her until she whimpers, shudders, and then comes all over my hand.
“Ya Allah,” she groans as I fuck her deeper with my fingers, push my tongue as far into her divine asshole as I can. “What are you . . . oh . . . oh . . . oh God!”
She comes again, her wetness streaming out of her until my hand is soaked down to the wrist. I’m almost beside myself with arousal, and I pull my face away from her ass and push my wet fingers into her rear pucker, all three of them at once, opening her up in a way that makes her howl.
My cock almost explodes as I see her clean rear hole spread wide for my fingers, and with my trembling free hand I grasp my shaft and bring my oozing cockhead to where my fingers are holding her open.
I can barely see, barely hear, barely think. Somewhere in the distance I think I hear the sound of helicopters, choppers flying in to take us down, make us surrender. But I’m not stopping. I’ve already surrendered to my fate, and our story ends here, in this room, with just me and her . . . all of her.
With a guttural groan I push myself into her rear, gasping as I see my thick shaft spread her opening so wide she hunches up and turns her head halfway. Her eyes are rolled up so far in her head I can only see the whites, but I keep pushing, deeper, deeper, all the way deep, all the way down, every inch, every hidden corner of her, no matter how deep, no matter how dark.
She’s mine, I think as I’m finally balls deep inside her, her soft cushion pressed up against my tight hips, her hourglass figure spread before me on the Captain’s bed.
Mine now and forever.
Every part of her.
All the light in her . . .
. . . and every fucking inch of the dark.
11
DAARI
It’s so dark in here, I think as I blink furiously, wondering if I’ve gone blind. Then I see splinters of light behind my eyelids, and suddenly I scream as everything snaps into place, as vision and sound and touch all return at once, like I’ve been blasted out of a cannon or something!
“What’s happening?!” I howl as I feel Desh behind me, inside me, deep inside, all the way deep! But all of a sudden I know what’s happening, and I scream again as I feel all three parts of me spinning together in my consciousness like in some twisted dance, the three of us holding hands like sisters, triplets, each part as valid and real as the other, each personality as much a part of my identity as the other. We’re inseparable, I realize as I feel my body tremble and shudder from not just arousal but joy.
Pure joy.
Joy and . . . and . . . love?
Love.
“I love you,” come the words, and it’s my memory replaying those words, words that Desh said to me, to the darkest part of me, the worst part of me, the part of me that had decided that love wasn’t real, love wasn’t useful, love didn’t help you survive. But now I understand that love was the only thing that helped me survive! Even the worst of me was motivated by love, wasn’t it?
Yes, I think as I feel Desh hold me down and take me, claim me, own me. Just like this is motivated by love, by acceptance of the darkest part of me, by understanding the darkest part of me.
By loving the darkest part of me.
“I love you, Desh,” I whisper as I feel a peaceful warmth flow through me even though my body is shuddering with the force of his thrusts. I close my eyes and smile, remembering what Desh said to me about instinct being the ocean within us, about how instinct is like a current that will carry us home if we just let go and trust in it, trust in ourselves, trust in each other.
I can feel tears roll down my cheeks as I feel that ocean inside me, its currents strong and clear even though the surface might be roiled by storm-winds. Somehow I understand that all three parts of me were following that current, flowing along with that ocean of instinct, heading for home, heading for him.
For him.
Just for him.
Gently I open my eyes as Desh digs his fingers into my soft buttocks, pushes himself all the way deep again, and then seizes up as he comes. I can feel the manic urgency of our need, but there’s an unshakeable calmness flowing through it all, reminding me that this was always our story, just ours.
Then suddenly I’m snapped back into this world, and I scream as I realize I’m coming again, my climax rocking me as Desh explodes inside my rear canal, filling me again and again as he pulls back and rams back in. It feels wild, and I scream again when I realize that all three parts of me are somehow here at once, alive and awake at once! Am I one person again? Or have I simply accepted that I’ll never be one person?!
Desh collapses on me just as I start to laugh and cry at the same time, the emotions and ecstasy just too much for me to react in any coherent way. And then we’re both laughing, rolling around on the bed like kids at play, pushing and pulling, kissing and cuddling.
“Ohgod, I’m really, truly, completely insane, aren’t I?” I whisper as we finally relax, our bodies glistening with sweat, our chests heaving with excitement.
“I am afraid so, Princess,” he whispers against my neck. I can feel him grinning, and I run my fingers through his thick black hair and laugh.
Then I frown when I feel the cut on his right temple. “Ya Allah, did I . . . no! Please tell me it wasn’t me!”
“OK. It wasn’t you,” says Desh in a deadpan tone. “Happy?”
I laugh and shake my head, feeling all three parts of me still holding hands somewhere in the shadows of my consciousness. I know what Desh means. It was me and it wasn’t me.
“Yes,” I say after a long pause. “Happy.”
“Good,” he says against my neck. Then he kisses me between the breasts and sits up. “Then perhaps you’ll consider telling the Greek Air Force and Coast Guard to not sink us all with extreme prejudice?”
I frown as I crane my head down to see if Desh is joking. But I don’t need to look at him, because I can hear the helicopter rotors closing in, hear the shouts of Desh’s crew above decks, feel the explosions of the warning shells that the Coast Guard ships are dropping into the waters around the ship.
“Oh, shit!” I gasp, pushing Desh away even as I marvel at how bloody calm he is. I grab my robe and race up the stairs, still shaking my head when I hear Desh laughing behind me.
He’s as insane as I am, I think with a smile as I head to the upper deck and raise both arms to anyone and everyone, signaling in every way that I can that I’m OK and please do not fucking kill us!
Then I hear the First Mate kill the engines on our ship, and as we slowly glide to a gentle halt, the Greek Coast Guard closing in, cannons pointed at us, military choppers circling above, my own bodyguards lining my ship’s railing, their rifles pointed at Desh’s rag-tag group of pirates, I feel my very own pirate come
up beside me.
“Oh thank God you aren’t naked,” I mutter when I see that he’s pulled on some breeches. I’m about to turn my attention back to my attendants and bodyguards, but I’m distracted by a flash of light in the corner of my vision.
Three flashes of light.
Bright like stars.
Bright like . . . diamonds?
“Desh?” I say, frowning as I see that he’s down on one knee even as the Greeks bark out orders on a loudspeaker. “Desh, what are you doing? Are you crazy?”
“Yes,” he says, holding up three diamond rings that I don’t even want to know how he got. Not one ring. Not two rings. Three rings! “And you’d better say yes, Princess. Say yes three times so I know it’s real. So I know it’s all of you saying yes. So I know it’s forever.”
“Well, this most certainly doesn’t feel like it’s real,” I mutter, shaking my head and blinking at the pirate’s booty being offered to me in front of an audience. Then I look into Desh’s eyes, see that he’s crazy but serious, just like I am, just like I’ll always be. “But it does feel like forever, Desh. It does feel like forever. So yes, Desh. Three times yes. I’m all yours. Always yours. Forever yours. Three times yours.”
∞
EPILOGUE
NINE MONTHS LATER
THE QUEENDOM OF DIKAANA
DESH
“Of course it’s three,” I say as I enter the Queen’s Chambers where my wife is sitting upright on her bed, our newborn triplets at her breast. It’s three girls, which somehow doesn’t surprise me. “Dariah, Direena, and Domaiya. Can we label them so I know which one is which?”
Daari almost throws one of my kids at me as she gasps in mock indignation. “You know insulting the newborn Princesses of Dikaana is a crime punishable by death.”
I grin as I slide onto the large bed and pull my family close to my body. Over the past nine months I’ve watched my Princess truly become a Queen, and it’s been as beautiful as it is inspiring. She enacted sweeping reforms, changing the legal system from the inside out, attracting the attention of the entire world as she single-handedly steered her Middle-Eastern nation into the modern world with the skill of a master navigator.
And it was single-handed, I remind myself as I kiss her on the forehead and then gently take my daughters and pull them close to Daddy. She did it on her own, just like she rules on her own. I’m her husband, her partner, her lover, her protector. But I’m also my own man, and just like I’ve accepted every part of Daari, chosen to love and cherish the dark and light in her, the warmth and the coldness, the good and the bad, she’s done the same for me.
“You know so much about me now, but I still barely know a thing about you,” she’d whispered shortly before our wedding six months ago.
“You know enough,” I’d grunted, forcing a smile and winking at her. “The rest I’ll save for after the wedding. It’s illegal for a woman to divorce her husband under the laws of Dikaana, yes?”
“Not for long,” she’d said, giggling and smacking me gently on the chest. “No, seriously, Desh. All I know is that you . . . you’re a . . . a pirate! I mean, really, how is that even a thing?!”
I grunted again, reaching to her bedside table and flipping over the top book from a stack of paperbacks she’d been obsessively reading during her pregnancy. “It certainly appears to be a thing in these trashy romance books you keep reading,” I said, tossing one onto the bed, its glossy cover showing a swashbuckling hero with a goddamn eye-patch and parrot! “I mean, look at this steroid-filled freak! He’s got bigger boobs than the heroine!”
“You jealous of his sexy eye-patch?” she’d teased. “I can get you a parrot too, if you want.”
“I’d eat that fucking parrot,” I’d grumbled, shaking my head and forcing a frown. “And no way in hell I’d want to be that guy. Look at the frail, skinny wench he’s got for a woman. No way he actually wants to—”
She’d smacked me again, this time harder. “Ya Allah, that is the body-shaming of skinny women!” she’d said, real indignation on her pretty round face even though I could see her holding back a smile. “Now that will be punishable by death in Dikaana when I enact my new laws.”
I’d crossed my arms over my chest and raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t mention body shaming when I made fun of the hero’s overdeveloped pectorals,” I’d countered. “You can’t have double standards for men and women.”
She’d just shrugged. “When you’re king of a country, you can make your own laws.”
“Won’t I be King when we get married in a month?” I’d said.
She’d paused, cocking her head and looking at me. “Do you want to be King?”
I’d just laughed out loud, shaking my long black hair, my eyes going wide. “I can’t think of anything worse. Sitting on a throne all day, listening to people complain about taxes or whatever. Not to mention the fucking paperwork! Kill me now, please.”
“Well, that is fine, “ she’d said with a snort. “But you cannot still be a pirate once we get married.”
“Why not?” I’d demanded.
She’d blinked and looked at me like I was insane. “Because . . . well, Desh, I’m a Head of State now, a ruler of a nation, on the world’s stage suddenly! How can I face the world if everyone knows I’m married to a . . . a pirate?!”
“So don’t tell them,” I said nonchalantly, picking up that romance novel again and absentmindedly flipping through it. I read a few lines and then flipped over to the back cover. Then I grinned and held it up. “You read about secret babies all the time in these books, right? Women having secret babies?”
“Yes. So what?”
“So you will have a secret pirate.”
“A secret pirate,” she’d said slowly. “That is not a thing.”
“It is now,” I’d said firmly, keeping my arms crossed tight over my chest, looking down at my pectorals and deciding that I’m at least as muscular as that idiot on the book cover. With a better tan. A tan I intend to keep. “I’ll be your husband by day, and sail the dark waters by night, plundering and pillaging, doing what I do, what I always did, what I was born to do. No one will ever know. I’ll wear a mask. Maybe even an eye patch. A secret pirate. Simple.”
She’d just stared at me, not sure if I was serious or not. Then she’d sighed and rested her head on my pectorals, breathing against my hard body and sighing again. “I do not know if you are crazy or if you’re an idiot.” She’d snuggled into me as I kissed her forehead. “To be continued,” she’d whispered as I’d slowly reached down and started to massage her breasts, which were getting heavier and more magnificent as her pregnancy progressed.
But we never did continue that conversation, I think now as I gaze upon my perfect family: Three daughters and a wife who’s three women in one, all of them perfect, all of them mine.
No, I think with a private smile as I feel a warmth flow through me. I look upon Daari’s pretty round face, see the understanding behind those big brown eyes, feel the acceptance of the woman in her for the man in me—for every part of the man in me.
Of course she understands, I think as I close my eyes and smile again. There’s no other woman who could understand this better, understand that there are many sides to each of us, that we’re all multiple people rolled up in one, that a happy marriage means accepting every part of our spouse, allowing every part of the other person to breathe, to live his or her own life. There’ll be a time, perhaps when our girls are older, when I’ll tell her the truth. The simple, innocent truth. That I’m just like her in a way. I held on to my own boyhood innocence, that sense of fresh adventure. I clung to it like it was precious and vital, like it was plunder more valuable that all the diamonds in Africa, all the gold in Egypt. There is no deeper explanation than just the wanderlust of an island boy who refused to grow up, who still refuses to grow up, refuses to sail his ship back to t
he safety of shore.
But I have indeed dropped an anchor, I think as I pull my family closer and hold on to them with all the love I have. An anchor that will always keep me safe at sea, always bring me home, again and again, always and forever.
And one day, when our girls are grown, I’ll take my wife, my woman, my big-breasted wench, and we’ll once again set sail over the wild, untamed sea as the gods smile down on us and Zeus himself blows wind into our sails.
And I’ll pull my curvy wench close and wink at the universe, grin a toothy grin and let the tides of destiny carry us where they will, an eye-patch on my left eye, parrot on my shoulder, pectorals glistening in the sun, cutlass hanging by my side, just like the eternal fairytale, just like the boy’s fantasy, just like the girl’s dream, just like forever.
Our forever.
The Princess and the Pirate.
∞
FROM THE AUTHOR
Thanks so much for sailing along with Desh and Daari. I hope you enjoyed the craziness, and I hope you’re ready for more!
Yes, more.
More madness . . .
More drama . . .
More insta-love like you’ve never seen.
Because THE CEO AND THE SOLDIER is up next, so get it now.
And if you haven’t read the others yet, remember that the CURVY FOR HIM SERIES are all standalones so you can read them in any order.
Already caught up? Well, then read my full-length curvy-girl series CURVES FOR SHEIKHS and CURVES FOR SHIFTERS! They’ve got the same drama, madness, and over-the-top heat as the CURVY FOR HIM books.
Finally, if you haven’t already, do join my private list to get five exclusive forbidden epilogues from my SHEIKHS series.
Thanks and love,
Anna.
[email protected]
PS: For my international readers:
Annabelle in UK
Curvy for Him: The Princess and the Pirate Page 6