Seizing Rain (Seas of Seduction Book 1)

by A. E. Murphy

  I gasp and hold the chairback, the wood digs into my fingers painfully. My entire body is screaming with pleasure, my knees almost buckle but his arm around my waist holds me tight.

  “Tell me again that it’s the drugs that made you want me.” He sounds so smug but I don’t care. I need this. I need more. How he works my body and sets me alight is insane. It’s ethereal.

  “I don’t want you.”

  “Too bad,” he mumbles, smiling against my neck. “Stop me then. Just say the word stop and I’ll stop.”

  I’m losing my mind. It’s gone on a raft sailing the ocean miles away, leaving my pitiful body to fend for itself.

  “No, please,” I whimper.

  “Stop?”

  I shake my head. “No. Don’t…” My entire body is quivering and burning. The tingles are spiralling through my body. I can’t cope. “Captain…”

  “More?”

  I nod, frantic with the need to orgasm regardless of whose hand it is on. “So close.”

  He grinds against me, his own body trembling against mine. “I want to fuck you.” He holds me tighter, rubs me harder, grinds quicker, trembles more.

  Fuck.

  His words unravel me and I reach the edge.

  “No,” he demands, feeling me clench down on the fingers buried in my sex. “Not yet.”

  I’m turned to face him and lifted. I lock my legs around his hips as he kisses my neck and carries me to the bed.

  He drops me onto the mattress and I groan when he pulls down my shorts, baring me to his view like the night before. Shoving down his boxers, he kicks them off and crawls onto the bed, giving me no time to assess the enormity of him, the thickness of him, the slight downwards curve of his amazing cock. This man is perfection.

  But he’s not mine.

  He’s not mine.

  What am I doing?

  He’s the enemy.

  What the fuck am I doing?

  I turn my head when he tries to kiss me and tense when he finds my entrance and poises himself against it.

  “No,” I say urgently. “Stop… STOP!”

  His swollen lips part as his body stills and his eyes scan my face, flashing with anger and desperation.

  I tighten my thighs, letting them flatten on the bed first.

  “Get off me,” I shout, pushing at his chest.

  “Don’t you dare,” he shouts back. “Don’t you fucking dare back out now!”

  “Stop,” I shove his chest one more time and he lurches away from me, standing and ripping his hand through his hair angrily.

  “FUCK!” he roars, grabbing the painting on the wall above his chest of drawers. It rips from the wall, no match for his brute strength and he throws it like a large rectangular Frisbee. It hits the wall across from the bed and breaks in two. “You fucking tease!”

  I grip the blanket to my chest as he grabs his boxers and yanks them on, then his jeans.

  He then proceeds to stamp on the painting with his bare foot, smashing it into further pieces, forcing me further back into the wall.

  “I’m sorry,” I say softly, wondering if I should have just said yes to avoid this. Is he going to hit me now? Send me back to that cell?

  My words seem to penetrate whatever mood he’s in because he stops, looks at me, blows out a breath and approaches slowly.

  I tense when he lifts me out of his bed into a cradle carry and places me onto his drawers. The glossy metal is cold under my bare rear.

  “What are you doing?” I ask when he spreads my thighs and stands between them. He rests his head under my chin and instinctively I run my fingers up and down his spine. Cinnamon, tatted skin quivers under my fingertips. It’s more to soothe him so he doesn’t hurt me, or toss me out for the other men to have.

  We silently remain like this for so long but I need to know where I stand. “Are you mad?”

  “No.” He looks up at me, his eyes tired, then shakes his head as his features soften. “No.”

  Lifting me again, he carries me back to the bed and lays me on it. I don’t protest for now because I don’t want to test his anger further. Surprisingly I don’t feel in any danger but I also don’t feel comfortable. Not until he climbs in with me and places his head on my navel, similar to how we woke up this morning. At first, I think he’s going to eat me again like last night, get me riled and try to seduce me, but then after a few tense moments I realise as his breathing softens that he’s sleeping, and I’m his pillow.

  I shuffle a little, finding a more comfortable position as we rest diagonally across the bed. When I sink back into the pillows one final time after pulling the blanket over him, I close my eyes, praying I don’t fart in my sleep.

  Kisses trail across my midriff, gently stirring me from my slumber. I keep my eyes closed, praying he hasn’t noticed a change in my breathing.

  I can’t lie and say I’m not intrigued as to what he’s doing.

  He gets higher and higher, pushing my top up as he goes as though he has every right to do so. His lips wrap around my nipple, I gasp and my eyes fly open, only to find his that are slanted with mischief and dilated with arousal.

  “I was wondering when you’d stop pretending.”

  “You act far too familiar with my body,” I mutter, yanking my top back down.

  He doesn’t move, simply rests his head between my breasts and sighs tiredly.

  I prod his temple with the point of my index finger. “What’s your actual name, Captain?”

  He tenses and his breathing stops. “Does it matter?”

  “I guess I just…” I wet my lips, looking away when his eyes try to find mine. “It doesn’t matter, I shouldn’t have asked.”

  He nuzzles back into my breasts through the fabric of the T-shirt I don, smiling again. “Kiss me and I’ll tell you.”

  “I’ll never kiss you willingly.”

  “A week ago, you’d never have let me eat you either but here we are.” With that he climbs off my body and stretches tall. He’s so perfect. It’s a shame he’s a psychopath. “Come on, get dressed.”

  “Why?” I ask, trying not to watch too intently as he covers his body in a Guns N’ Roses T-shirt. Great body, great band.

  “I’m going to show you how the pretty boat moves.”

  I glare at him as I stand and take the shorts he tosses my way. “I’m not a little girl and this isn’t a pretty boat.”

  “What is it then?” His tone is full of humour.

  “It’s a big boat.”

  His head falls back as he roars with laughter, a pleasant sound. Then, without permission, he hooks me around the back of my neck and plants his lips on mine. It lasts a second but it’s a second too long.

  He doesn’t deepen it, instead he guides me into his bathroom and we brush our teeth side by side like a couple, not like captor and captive. Even going so far as to playfully battle over mirror space.

  He’s definitely starting to trust me and it has been no time at all.

  “Do you maybe have any clothes that aren’t so big?” I ask as we make our way to the bridge, nodding to his crew as we go. “Maybe there’s another woman here or…”

  “Not a fucking chance are you wearing Millie’s clothes. You’ll probably get crabs.”

  Eww.

  “Millie?” The girl who was trying to sleep with him that night?

  He cringes. “Don’t ask. You’re better off never knowing her.”

  “What about a smaller man?”

  Stopping in his tracks, he glares down at me. “You wear my clothes.”

  “But these are so…”

  “My clothes, until we can get you your own clothes.”

  My heart hammers in my chest. “How long are you planning to keep me here?”

  “As long as it takes.” His lips thin to a white line.

  I shake my head with disbelief. “As long as what takes? This isn’t fair. I have a life, friends, a job, my family… my mum. You can’t just keep me here!”

  “I can and I am
. End of discussion.”

  I punch him full force in the chest, he doesn’t even grunt, just raises a brow. “Christ, I fucking hate you.”

  “That’s a shame, I heard Christ is a pretty nice guy.”

  I try to punch him again, much to the amusement of the men around us but he snags my wrist and, in a fancy move, twists me and pins my back to his chest with his arms crossed over mine.

  “Let go of me!”

  “No.”

  “Stop telling me no.”

  “Then stop being a little bitch.”

  I’m a bitch?

  “I’m a bitch? You… you… fucking pirate fucker.”

  My cheeks heat with embarrassment when he starts laughing again and the men around him join in.

  “Aye, that I am.” Then, he turns me again and pretends to bite my neck while with one hand he tugs his bandana down to cover one of his eyes and using his best pirate impression he declares, “Arr, me hearties, let’s go to skull island and bury us some treasure.”

  “You’re not funn—”

  He lifts me over his shoulder, laughing again when I pinch the skin of his back. Does this man feel no pain?

  He doesn’t put me down until we’re in the bridge where I’m faced with consoles full of buttons and screens I’ll never understand and a gorgeous view overlooking everything we need to see.

  “No wheel?” I ask, expecting a big beastly wheel to steer this thing.

  Clunk looks at me with amusement but it’s he who explains, “It has a wheel but only for emergencies. The captain sits right here and we bring him coffee.”

  I nod and follow Captain around the space. He explains to me what things are and what they do and it’s all surprisingly interesting. Although I can’t say if that’s because he’s telling me or if I just suddenly find all things nautical fascinating.

  It’s clear that he has a lot of passion for his pretty boat.

  He pats a seat beside where he navigates and I watch him avidly for an hour. Occasionally he looks at me from his perch and smiles so sweetly.

  After more time he offers, “If you’re bored, you can go?”

  This is it, the moment of truth.

  I return his sweet smile and muster up all of the charm I can. “No, I’m good here.”

  It’s not a complete lie either.

  He looks ahead, out over the ocean and the ship. “Well then, okay. Clunk, bring coffee.”

  “Sprout, bring coffee,” Clunk tells somebody else.

  It takes a little while but it arrives and we’re brought a tray, complete with two cups of hot water, some sachets of instant coffee, a bowl of sugar and a couple of spoons. No milk.

  Never mind, I’ll just have to have it sweeter. I can’t drink it without milk usually but it has been so long since I had coffee.

  “How do you take yours?” I ask him, acting every bit the well-behaved captive.

  “Two sugars.”

  “Do you think…” I start, stirring the sugar into his cup. My voice trails off as I lose the courage to ask.

  “What do you need?” His voice is deep and commanding, not his usual soft tone that he typically uses around me.

  Now I’ve chickened out even more. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Tell me.” His eyes remain ahead and I’m glad of that.

  I get to look at his profile, his growing stubble, his unscarred side, his big, green eye.

  “I want to call my mum, so she knows I’m okay.”

  I see him tense before he pauses for at least thirty seconds. “Your mum?”

  “She’s old and has a bad heart.”

  “I’m not surprised what with her only children being convicts.”

  My jaw drops. “That’s a shitty thing to say. We love our mum.”

  “Clearly.”

  My shame and rage rise. “What do you know about it? You have no idea the kind of life I’ve led.”

  “Tell me about it.” He looks at me earnestly, imploringly. “I want to know. Why were you arrested? Why is your brother in prison for life?”

  “Because we did bad things and he took the blame.”

  “You did bad things?”

  I nod. “But I’m not that person anymore.”

  “What person? A bad person?”

  I shrug. “I can’t judge what I am, I can only try to be better.”

  Sighing heavily, he clicks his fingers at Clunk. “Bring me the burner.”

  Clunk does so, grasping it out of a leather jacket hanging on the wall by the door and in less than a minute, the phone is in my hand.

  I stare at it, shaking as I hold the key to my old life in my hands. “Is it too much to ask for privacy too?”

  The look he gives me tells me how massively stupid that question is.

  “Well…” I look at the crew in the room, a scattered seven men in total. “Just us then?”

  He gives me another blank look.

  “I don’t want them to see me cry.”

  “Then don’t cry,” he replies and this time I give him a blank look. “Fine. Everybody out!”

  “What?” Clunk grumbles, scratching the missing part of his beard. It’s either a bald patch or a scar. I’m not getting close enough to find out.

  “Out.”

  They move out quietly, saying nothing. They really do respect their captain.

  “Any funny business, any hints as to our location… anything at all…”

  “I’ll walk the plank, I got it,” I finish, shaking with anticipation.

  He rolls his eyes but from the tales Geoffrey has told me, I know it won’t be the first time he has thrown somebody overboard. Would he ever do that to me?

  I dial the number, standing and moving a few steps away for some semblance of privacy. On the fourth ring I feel anxious and shaky. What if she doesn’t answer?

  And then…

  “Hello?”

  “Mum?” I whisper, my voice breaking.

  “Oh! Rain!” She sounds so cheery, not like the mother of a kidnapped child. “Oh, Rain, it is so good to hear from you. I’ve been worried.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “I had thought you’d gotten yourself into a spot of bother but Niall said you’ve been volunteering in Mexico? Something about a protest?”

  She doesn’t know. He purposely hasn’t told her. Likely because of her heart.

  “Yeah, it’s going well,” I lie. “It’s a pipe thing, they’re trying to run oil through native lands.”

  She sighs wistfully. I wipe away my silent tears and swallow my sob. “It’s good you’ve found moral things to focus on. Please, try to stay out of trouble.”

  “I will.”

  “I’m driving though, sweetie. Can you call me back? I’d pull over but I’m on the A1.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’ll call you later if I can. I love you so much. Tell River I love him.”

  “He knows, dear, but I’ll tell him.”

  “Bye, Mum.”

  “Bye, sweetie.”

  It takes longer than it should but I hang up the phone and wipe my eyes on my sleeve. For the first time since finding the strength to progress, I feel mentally ready to shut down.

  “Please, just let me go home,” I whisper pleadingly as he takes the phone from me.

  “I can’t do that.”

  I watch him tuck the phone into his back pocket and then look into his eyes. “Do you get a kick out of this? Does it make you happy knowing the lives you’re destroying for your own bullshit?”

  “It’s not bullshit. It’s important to me.”

  “I don’t care,” I yell, wiping my eyes again. “I don’t care about what you find important. You’re a criminal, a kidnapping, asshole, criminal bastard, fucking everything and I hate you. You’re the lowest of the low. The lowest.”

  My chest heaves with each breath that I struggle to intake. I’m on the verge of having a panic attack as I recall all of my home comforts, all of my friends, Niall’s arms and warmth.

  Whe
n the wrong arms circle around me, I shove him away with more strength I thought myself capable of. Even he seems impressed as he goes back a step.

  “Don’t touch me. I never should have let you touch me!”

  “Rain,” he says softly, furrowing his brows.

  “Leave me alone.” I turn away from him, reminding myself why I hate him, remembering the depth of my hatred for him. Recalling how I got here and what I’ve been through since. “Whatever it is, it isn’t worth this. It isn’t fucking worth this pain.”

  His voice is gruff and deep, I don’t care to know why. “To you, maybe.”

  I spin on my heel again and slam my hands against his chest. “Is it to you? Is what you need from Niall really worth my life? What happens when he tells you? Will you take me home? Toss me overboard? Kill me? Let your men finally have the fun they want?”

  His eyes darken. “I’ve taken care of you since you arrived. I’ve ensured your safety. I didn’t have to do that.”

  “YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO KIDNAP ME EITHER!” I slap him around the face so hard my hand stings. “YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO BRING ME HERE AND PUT ME IN A POSITION WHERE YOU HAVE TO SAVE ME FROM RAPISTS!”

  He let it connect with his now reddening cheek, I know he could block it. Geoffrey said he’s the strongest fighter on this ship, he’s undefeated, he could easily have stopped me.

  He says nothing which only angers me further. My rage takes hold and I lunge for him, ready to kick, bite, slap, claw, and pinch everything I can through a red mist that has settled over my vision.

  “I hate you!”

  He grabs my wrists, pushing them away at the last second and I stumble but turn again.

  “You can’t win a fight like that,” he remarks calmly, twisting my arm behind my back. “You can’t defend yourself like that either.”

  I growl with frustration, ignoring the ache in my shoulder while shuffling in an attempt to leave.

  “You say this is my fault? I disagree. We gave Niall plenty of warnings. He didn’t even make you take a self-defence class. He knew we were coming for you.” His lips press against the shell of my ear. “I might be the lowest of the low but your Niall is weak. He’s a pathetic, lying, weak, tiny cop with little dick syndrome. He’s the reason you’re here, not me. I’m doing what I know to get the results I want. Fuck… he loves you so much but he hasn’t even called his cop buddies to help. He hasn’t called it in at all.”