Page 35 of Captive of the Pirate King
“It was good,” I say. “And now it’s over.”
Locke runs a hand through his hair. “Did I hurt you? Sometimes I’m too rough…”
“No, it’s not that. I just—once I sleep with a man, that’s it. I’m done.” I tug the blanket tighter around me, a shield against the surprise and hurt in his eyes. He’s a pirate, damn it. Rejection isn’t supposed to bother him. He’s not supposed to look at me like a puppy I just kicked. Not that I’ve ever kicked a puppy—
“Look, it’s nothing personal,” I tell him. “I’m just not the type to get attached.”
Locke doesn’t say anything.
“Stop staring at me,” I hiss.
His jaw works, and a frown dents his forehead, but he looks away. “I thought you and I—I thought we had something. More than just—”
“No,” I say quickly. “Nothing more. And I’ve decided that tomorrow, I’m going to reveal who I am to everyone. Then Captain Neelan will have to leave me here on the island. I’ll be free.”
Locke’s frown deepens. “I see.”
“You don’t think it will work?”
“Oh, it will. It’s a good plan if all you want is to escape from pirates. But if you’re hoping to find that lost brother of yours, you need to come with us to Ravensbeck. If your brother isn’t there himself, someone will know where he is. I have connections. I can help you locate him.”
I hesitate, clutching the blanket. The rain pelts the tent steadily, lighter now, but still incessant.
“Why would you help me? Just so you can have more of this?” I gesture to the pallet where he took me. “Is that why you’ve been helping me this whole time? So you could get your dick inside the girl pretending to be a boy?”
“That’s not it.”
“I’m under no illusions about my own appearance. I’m skinny, my breasts are small, and I’m covered in these spots—my hair looks terrible, and I haven’t had access to cosmetics or perfume or jewelry for ages—”
“As if I care about any of that,” Locke growls.
“Exactly. You don’t care because all you want is a tight hole, right? That’s what you said of Captain Neelan, and I’m thinking you might be the same way.”
He jumps up, and even though he has to bend under the slope of the tent roof, he’s still taller than me. His face is a breath from mine, his frosty eyes shining with anger and passion. “If I wanted a hole, I could have picked any of the women out there. But I wanted you. I still want you. Your eyes stop my heart—like green stars they are, or emeralds fit for a Pirate King. Your face, your body—every inch of you is stunning, adorable, unique.”
I scoff, but I’m breathless too, and flushing deeper with every word he speaks.
“Don’t laugh.” He grips my upper arms, his breath going ragged. “It’s not only your beauty—it’s your plucky spirit, the way you throw yourself into every task. You’re an unstoppable force, Veronica. You are determination incarnate—clever and deceitful and naïve and bold. The thought of never seeing you again—” His grip tightens until it’s painful. With a jerk, he slams me against him and crushes his mouth to mine.
I voice a muffled protest, but when he heeds me and breaks the kiss, I dive for his mouth again, kissing him with a kind of angry gratitude for everything he just said.
“Why are you so good to me?” I snarl against his lips.
“I don’t rutting know.” Locke kisses me back with brutal force, grinding his pelvis against mine. He’s getting hard again, and there’s an answering tremorous tingle in my own body, a craving not yet sated.
“Now Ihaveto go with you,” I hiss, planting a vehement kiss on his mouth, and another on his jaw. “Curse you, pirate.”
“Curseyou,” he replies. “You weren’t supposed to happen. This voyage was supposed to be simple, dammit. I wasn’t supposed to find—oh great gods—” His words dissolve into a hoarse moan.
As I writhe against him, he kisses me again, open-mouthed, like his lips yearn to swallow mine, like his tongue wants to slither into my mouth and stay there for good.
There’s a brutal abandon in the way we attack each other. Our time is short—someone could return to camp any minute, and there’s no guarantee of another time and place to be alone. TheArdentmight leave the islands tomorrow. Now is all we’ve got.
We’re face to face, crushed together, his length trapped between us. Locke reaches around past the curve of my ass and teases my slit from behind, sliding his fingers through slowly. I gasp, arching against him, and he kisses me through a feral grin.
“I don’t sleep with men twice,” I pant. “I never have. I don’t—”
“Do you want me to stop?” He ripples his hand across my folds, and I whine, wriggling helpless like a slippery fish on a wicked, wanton hook.
