Page 34 of Captive of the Pirate King
He tears off his wet shirt, the eye patch, the headwrap—shucks off his boots and clothes with a desperate speed that sends tremors of anticipation through my body. The next moment he’s naked, huge and damp and muscled, and as he crawls over me I lie back, opening the blanket, exposing my body to him.
He’s so big he seems to fill the whole tent, my whole world. Heat and steam and lust surge off him. Beads of rain glisten along his jawline. His eyes are white flame as he hovers over me, bracing himself on one forearm. His hips settle between my parted legs, the hard core of him sliding along my folds.
He palms the back of my head, dragging my mouth up to his for a brutal kiss. This is a man who’s been holding himself back for too long. He is a storm of scorching muscle and feral lust, unstoppable—not that I want him to stop. The force of his kiss, the abandonment of his control—it turns me on like nothing else.
Locke’s teeth drag across my lips, and I respond, catching the swell of his lower lip in a gentle bite. His tongue swerves across mine and then his lips close firmly over my mouth, a solid claim.
Dominant, tyrannical, he rears up, looking down into my eyes. “Tell me your name.”
“I will, when you tell me who you really are.”
“Damn it, Nick.” He sweeps a broad thumb across my mouth, slides his hand down to my neck. His thick fingers stroke up and down the column of my throat. He could snap me in half, this pirate. The awareness spikes my heart rate, and my eyes widen.
But his hand moves on, from my neck to my breasts. He pinches one nipple, and I hiss a breath.
“Your name,” he demands.
“No.”
Locke makes a sound, half laugh, half frustrated growl. His hips retreat and then ram forward. A rush of burning thick flesh plunges into me without warning, without mercy. A choked gasp of delight escapes me as I’m filled, tight and deep. Locke rolls out of me again and surges back in, jarring my whole body.
“Tell. Me. Your. Name.” He punctuates each word with a violent thrust.
“More,” is the only word I can manage.
But he stops pounding me. Draws out, leaving me quivering and empty. I claw at his shoulders, trying to bring him back down to me, but he pulls my wrists together and pins them above my head with one hand. I squirm, my insides trembling, aching.
With one finger he touches me at the apex of my thighs, and I nearly shriek. My muscles are taut with want, my entire body writhing, craving that burst of pleasure.
“Locke,” I whisper. “Please.”
He nudges his nose against mine, still gripping my wrists. “Your name.”
Another touch, feather-light against my folds. I arch upward, trying to gain some friction, anything. But he pins one of my thighs down against the pallet.
“Name,” he growls into my mouth. His tongue darts across my teeth, a salacious swirl, and then he kisses the sensitive skin under the corner of my jaw.
“Veronica,” I breathe. “It’s Veronica.”
“Gods,” he groans. “Veronica.” He says my name like it’s the one word he’s been trying to remember for years.
In one ferocious, fluid movement he releases my wrists and grips my legs, arching them up. He slides into me again, and I stifle a mewling cry at the blessed, blessed fullness and heat of him. Several more savage thrusts and he comes undone, pumping himself hot and liquid inside me. His shuddering groan, the throbbing heat, the bare sight of him braced over me—I buck against him one more time and press two fingers in the right spot and Icome, waves of white-hot light coursing through my belly.
“Locke,” I scream. “Locke, Locke.”
He curls one arm around my head, holding me close while I shake and gasp. “Sshhh,” he soothes hoarsely. “There’s a good girl. My beautiful girl.”
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Locke rolls onto his side, scooting me over so we can both squeeze onto the pallet. I’m suddenly struck by the strangeness of it—the gruff pirate who swung me over the sea and onto theArdent, the one who nearly tipped me overboard into the deep—I just let him plow into me. He’s lying right next to me, this stranger, this person I barely know. He just gave me a lightning-crack of an orgasm, and I’m not even sure who he really is.
I sit up, feeling the faint throb inside me from where he was. He came inside me. I could get pregnant.
Back home I used to take a special tonic the day after a tryst, to prevent pregnancy. I wonder if the islanders have anything similar.
Sighing, I massage my forehead with my fingers.
“What is it?” Locke sits up as well, and he’s suddenly too close to me. I rise and wrap the blanket around me again.
