and shoved her. Before her terror engulfed her, she saw several men knocked to the floor. A huge fist made contact with jaws, faces. He stood beside her, sword drawn, the point angled under one chin near her. “Not this one, my friends. Not this one.” Sheathing his sword, he instructed her, “Follow me, if you think you can without getting yourself in further strife.”
Staying close on his heels, she followed him across the deck to a set of stairs leading below. The men continued to watch her, but no further remarks sounded. Opening a door, he waited for her to enter. A large desk filled the center, papers strewn atop. Stepping as far inside as she could, she turned to find him leering at her. His warm, gold eyes heated her in an unsettling way. She burned from the inside out, a feeling she never experienced before.
Marching in front of her, he put his hand in her hair behind her neck, tilting her face to his. His lips came down on hers fast, and hard. His breath became hers. Molding his lips to hers, his tongue pushed past her lips, caressing hers. The forceful, demanding kiss transformed into a gentle, sensual exchange. He licked behind her lips, over and around her teeth. She returned his attention, savoring the warmth and intimate exploration he initiated. An ache she didn’t understand formed.
She shared a few kisses in her life, but nothing compared to this. His left arm encircled her waist, lifting her from her feet, without interrupting their mouth explorations. Carrying her across the room, he broke the kiss, staring at her with a heat in his eyes matching the fiery sensations she felt. Lowering them to a bunk, he held the stare, a shared understanding, an appeal for consent.
She knew this was wrong. She did. She just didn’t care. The entire situation was wrong. The barbaric, alluring man took her, spanked her, forced her on a ship, and her only thoughts were of having his lips back on hers and easing the discomfort he created within her body. It scared her. It intrigued her. But she had no one to criticize or condemn her in that moment. She could do as she wanted.
Moving his head to her neck, he nuzzled it before he kissed it, progressing to deep, borderline painful lavishness. Though he sucked at her neck, she experienced a similar awareness in her core.
Sliding the drenched, ripped material off her shoulders, revealing her breasts, he immersed them in the same intense affection. He kissed, sucked, nipped, until she thrashed about yearning for more.
“Mm, what is your name, Angel?” he asked in the most masculine voice she ever heard. Even his voice affected her in a primal way.
“Pri… Priscilla,” she panted.
Running his tongue under each breast, then circling each nipple, she arched towards his mouth. “Priscilla. Was this Finn your husband? Such a lucky man.”
She receded into the bunk, his words bringing her back to reality. “No. I am unmarried. Did you kill him? He was my escort.”
His lips curled in a cunning smile. “No, Angel. I didn’t kill him. Yet he may wish for it when he wakes up. He will have one hell of a pounding in his head.” Stroking the side of her head, he ran his tongue along her jawline. “You are a virgin?”
Any attempt she made to remain unaffected by his lascivious tongue failed. He trailed it down her neck and along her shoulder interspersing kisses and nips. Closing her eyes, she disregarded any negative conceptions threatening to invade her mind and concentrated on the glorious madness his lips ignited throughout her entire body. If he thought her a virgin, would he stop? He couldn’t. She needed him to soothe her suffering. A delightful misery she didn’t understand. She heard pirates had no honor. But she wouldn’t take a chance. She needed him to fulfill whatever he incited in her. “No.”
His body shook with laughter. His rough, whiskered face rubbed against hers. “Do not lie to me, Angel.”
How could the arrogant, lawless man be kind and caring with her? His concern for her virtue, the exact opposite of his menacing image, sent her desire soaring. She wanted the forbidden, the discovery, the adventure, she wanted the experience. “I do not lie,” she hesitated, “Spoon?” He had a name. He had a past. Just as she.
Should she not have spoken his name? He withdrew. He eliminated all contact with her. Positioning himself on the other side of the small space exterminating any insane idea she imagined of being taken. In the truest sense, she wished to be taken. By him.
The smoldering lust he directed at her seconds prior vacated his eyes. All heat vanished and a chill engulfed her sending a shiver up her spine. “Did I grant you the right to call me by any name?” he cautioned. His face hardened, and his eyes bored into hers. “I think not.”
“How would you like to be addresse–” she started. Flipping her onto her stomach, he ripped what remained of her undergarment.
Clamping her eyes shut, she gritted her teeth, awaiting the spanking she expected to receive. It didn’t come. The bunk bounced indicating his departure. Listening, she heard his movement, but remained as she lay, eyes shut.
A slam of a trunk against the floorboard jolted her. “Get up. Your bottom displays plenty of attention as it is. So, I shall spare you this time,” he stated.
Shifting upright, she sat at the edge of the bunk. A large trunk lay open in front of the desk. It contained many women’s dresses.
Waving his hand over it, she looked from the chest to him, then back again. This angered him, as he hollered at her, “Get up, I said!” She stood, naked from the waist down. Gravity seized the remnants of material transporting it to her feet. He gritted out, “You are not to leave this cabin. But I won’t leave you down here as you are—without me.” Stretching out his right arm, he gripped her forearm, forcing her to her knees in front of the chest. “Damn it! Cover yourself, Angel.”
He confused her. He seemed void of any tact. Gentle and kind, or impatient and brutish. And he spoke well, educated even. Which man did he wish to be? Running her hand along the gowns laid out on top, she realized they were expensive. Why did he have these? These were garments worn by wealthy women. What happened to the women?
“You’re testing me, and my impatience grows. Any longer and I shall retract my decision to spare you additional discipline,” he grumbled above her.
“I don’t see any shifts. Stays? Stockings? Petticoats?” She lifted a few pieces, digging deeper inside.
Stomping his foot, he demanded her attention, which she gave. She held his amber eyes but averted hers at each validation he emphasized. “You did not… don those when I found you. And I doubt you wore them sailing around the hot seas. Trust me, you won’t need or want those where we are going and neither do the women we sell them to.”
Dropping the garments, she stood. “Without a shift, or a petticoat, I will still be left quite exposed. My bosom shall be… uncovered. More than I wish.” Years of hearing her mother’s claims that a gentleman would never take her as a wife unless she behaved docile and practiced modesty echoed in her ears. She doubted her mother would approve of him regardless.
‘Spoon’ threw his head back and laughed like a mad man. She contemplated joining him in jest but reconsidered. Insolent and sarcastic behavior wouldn’t persuade him to provide those. And more importantly, it wouldn’t dissuade him from delivering ‘additional discipline’. His laughter subsided. She discovered she liked how his eyes brightened and lifted when he smiled. “You, Angel, do have an ample bosom. I must agree.”
She took a turn and stomped her feet. “Stop focusing on my breasts. Do you want me to get dressed or not? And what about all these clothes? You have been with all these women? Stolen them and brought them here as you have me?” Imagining him with other women infuriated her. Not one to usually get jealous, she recognized it. A ridiculous reaction under scandalous circumstances. But she assumed he completed the sexual liaisons he started with them. And he did not with her.
Seeing his eyes darken, and his jaw tighten, she stepped back. “You would do best to keep your thoughts in your head, not your mouth while here. I am attempting to treat you more as a guest, but you are trying me,” he urged.
“A