Page 68 of The Pirate Lord
A lock of black hair fell over his forehead, making him look devilish, though his next words were anything but. “I don’t know,” he muttered with a shade of uncertainty. “I’ve never taken a virgin before.”
He moved further inside her, and she stiffened. “How wonderful,” she said sarcastically as the sense of intrusion only increased. “You’re a novice at this.”
His lips twitched, as if he were suppressing a grin. Or a groan. “I’m only a novice at taking virgins. But I’m about to remedy that situation.”
He inched further inside her, then stopped abruptly, his eyes growing solemn as he stared down into her face. “You know it’ll hurt some when I break your maidenhead, don’t you?”
She nodded wordlessly.
“Do you trust me not to hurt you more than necessary?”
Every muscle in his face seemed taut from the effort of entering her slowly, and his eyes glittered with need. Yet he held off, waiting for her answer. That reassured her as nothing else could have. He might be a pirate, but he would not deliberately harm her.
Though she feared he had the power to hurt her deeply.
“I trust you,” she whispered.
“Good.” He sheathed himself fully inside her.
It was only a quick little burst of pain, but enough to make her cry out. He caught her cry with his mouth, kissing her until she relaxed. Then he began to move, sliding into her with long, slow strokes. At first it felt tight and unfamiliar. Then the slick friction of him inside her began to warm her, to rouse intriguing new sensations inside her. She felt herself open and loosen for him, like a sail unfurling to accept the mighty thrust of wind against it, inside it.
He held himself over her, his eyes the blue of the sky and the wind and the stormy sea. He thrust deeper, harder, making her ache for more.
It was sweet heaven and the torments of hell in one. Having him, but not enough . . . wanting him, but too much. Only half-conscious of what she did, she clutched at his arms to anchor him against her. He groaned, desire flaring higher in his face as he increased his tempo. He drove into her now as if he feared losing her, and she dug her fingernails into his arms to ride out the storm.
She felt as if he reached to the very heart of her. The ship rocked him and he rocked her, thrusting deeper and deeper, building the tension inside her until she cried out with needing him.
“My God,” he muttered as he drove wildly inside her, like a mythical sea beast riding the waves. “My God, Sara . . . my Sara . . . yes, my Sara . . .”
Her head tossed against the pillows as the pressure built inside her, making her cry out and strain harder and harder to fuse her body with his.
“Yes . . . oh, yes, Sara!” he half-shouted, half-groaned as he drove himself in her to the hilt. Jerky shudders wracked his body as he spilled himself inside her. She broke over the edge and felt herself careening through space.
As she cried out her pleasure beneath him, she fleetingly thought that he’d finally done exactly as he’d promised. He’d corrupted her. And to her endless shame, she reveled in it. She was truly wicked.
Oh, how glorious it was to be wicked.
Chapter Nineteen
One has no sooner left off one’s bib and apron, than people cry—‘Miss will soon be married!’. . . Mighty ridiculous! they want to deprive us of all the pleasures of life, just when one begins to have a relish for them.
— ELIZA HAYWOOD, ENGLISH ACTRESS AND PLAYWRIGHT,THE HISTORY OF MISS BETTY THOUGHTLESS
Sara was dreaming. Gideon stood with her at an altar, looking civilized and very English. His black hair was cropped close to his ears beneath a tall felt hat, and his saber was missing. He wore a fashionable frock coat of deep blue superfine, and she wore a gown of shimmering white silk, with a ruched bonnet rounded with ribbon and sprigs of orange blossoms.
But when she looked about her, the church was filled with convict women and pirates who were gambling and drinking and profaning the sacred place. Through the open doors she could see Petey and Jordan, but they didn’t enter. Instead, they cast her scornful, disparaging looks before turning their backs on her.
She strained toward them, but Gideon clasped her arm, ordering her to be still. Suddenly his frock coat vanished, revealing the leather vest and saber beneath them, making her realize they’d been there all along.
“This is where you belong now.” His expression was distant and rigid, and his fingers dug cruelly into her arm. “You belong with us. You’re one of us.”
“But . . . but I must speak with my brother . . . I must see Jordan . . . please let me see my brother . . .”
She awakened to the sound of her own voice whispering Jordan’s name.
It took her a few moments to realize she’d been dreaming, and another few moments to remember where she was. Shaking her head to clear it, she sat up and glanced around Gideon’s cabin, a quick surge of shame pinkening her cheeks. Good heavens, she was naked in his bed.
A flood of memories from the night before washed over her . . . Gideon forcing her to admit she wanted him . . . the second time they’d made love, when he’d coaxed her atop him and let her set the pace . . . her sated and drowsy, drifting off to sleep as he held her close in his arms.
