Page 74 of Captive of the Pirate King
His eyes shine like white stars flecked with firelit gold, and though he wears a cocky smile, tension hardens his jaw and temples. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Is he angry with me, or…
He pulls me in, settling me on his thigh. I’m angled toward the crew, and that means part of my rear is pressed to his crotch. Under the black pants, there’s a roll of hard flesh that I’ve come to know all too well.
So… not angry then.
“Rum in my belly and a beautiful woman between my legs,” he crows to the men. “What could be better? Let’s have another song! Dolomon, what was that ballad you were singing yesterday?”
As Dolomon begins the song, the men provide a humming murmur by way of background music, and the Pirate King pulls me tighter against his body.
He collects the loose strands of my hair with one hand, drawing them away from my ear, and he whispers, “I haven’t forgotten what I owe you. I’ll pay you tonight, once we’re alone, along with a bonus for saving my life.”
“Good.” I hold my head high, keeping my back straight and not allowing a bit of it to touch his chest. “I was beginning to think you weren’t grateful.”
His large hand slides across my exposed belly, between the corset and the band of my skirt, and my flesh quivers in response. His low chuckle turns my face hot as the fire.
“And how would you like your payment?” he purrs, stroking the bare skin of my stomach and side. “Gold coins? Silver coins? Jewels? Which kingdom currency best suits you? Perhaps I should give you Ivrian currency, so you can return home and buy yourself a prim noble husband, since you couldn’t secure such a stable prospect before.”
“For your information, Ihadsuch a stable prospect. A duke, if you must know. Very respectable.”
“By the gods,” he gasps in mock surprise. “There was someone you hadn’t bedded yet?”
“I didn’t want to bed him,” I grit out. “He was much older than me—very plain and dull. Our betrothal was one reason I ran away.”
“You’re betrothed? I’ve been sowing my seed in another man’s garden? How shocking.”
“I don’t belong to anyone but myself,” I retort.
“You’re wrong there, love. You belong to me.” The Pirate King’s hand slides up my ribs and cups my breast—boldly, openly. He’s fondling me here, where the whole crew can see. Tingling heat races over my skin, but it’s not shame, exactly. There’s a tender ache between my legs, a quick flutter of my pulse. Can it be that I enjoy this—being claimed so blatantly in front of this ship full of pirates?
Maybe I’m not here only out of duty, or to save myself. After all, if I’d been truly desperate to get away, I could have asked Locke to leave me on the Scarab Archipelago, impoverished and wretched though the place is—and he might have done it. But I only entertained the idea for a fleeting second, and I never asked him about it. Maybe because I didn’t want to live in such conditions—or maybe because Iwantto be here, relishing the rough warmth of Locke’s calloused hand and the press of his hardness against my curves, with the deep purr of his voice in my ear.
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Locke keeps touching me while the men drink themselves into a stupor. A few of them stay more or less sober at Locke’s request, since theArdentmust be kept on course. But the rest grow slower and louder, their voices slurred and silly.
Locke sweeps a broad hand across my breasts, squeezing lightly, and then tilts my face toward him. His mouth claims mine, tangy with salt and alcohol, and raw need spikes at my core. I can’t help squirming, pressing my legs together while he kisses me, plunging his tongue into the hot recesses of my mouth. When his hand travels to my chest again, I open my eyes a sliver, just to see the crew’s reaction to us.
Most of them are busy arguing and shoving each other or downing more drink, but a few watch us hungrily. And then my gaze locks onto one of Neelan’s original crew, a slovenly, hairy man. He stands outside the firelight circle, foam and glistening rum streaking his beard. His hand is in his pants, and he’s moving it quickly, staring at us.
I react instinctively, my body hardening, my lips breaking from Locke’s. He frowns slightly, confused by my reaction—and then he sees the drunken pirate pleasuring himself in the shadows.
He sets me down and strides over to the man. The chatter from the rest of the crew fades as they realize what’s happening.
What is Locke going to do? I press my fingers across my mouth, torn inside because maybe I should say something, intercede on the man’s behalf—
Locke seizes the man by the throat and shoves him against the railing. The bearded pirate’s spine curves backward, over the dark waves below. He whimpers and gibbers a half-distinguishable apology.
Locke’s boot slams into the pirate’s crotch, and the man screams. Locke lets him fall forward, cupping himself. Then another kick to the pirate’s ribs, and a third to his ass.
“She’s not for your pleasure,” Locke snarls, with another kick. “Tell me you understand.”
“I understand, my lord,” sobs the man.
“Good. Some of you take this lout to the brig.” Locke strides back to me and picks me up bodily before I can protest. He carries me into the captain’s cabin and tumbles me onto the bed, then kicks the door shut.
From a small chest in a cupboard he extracts a handful of gold, which he tosses onto the bed beside me in a gleaming shower of coins. “Your payment, as I promised.”
My family ring flashes on his hand as he gestures toward the money.
