by Merry Farmer
He smiled when her cheeks pinkened. “And I’ve also wondered”—with gentle fingers, he slowly pulled her loosened chemise down so that her entire breast and its tightly furled coral-pink nipple was bared—“if I could make your body blush from head to toe.”
“I’ve always disliked my horrid red blushes,” she murmured huskily, “even more than I dislike my freckles or my red hair. But when you say things like that, I rather think they’re not so horrid after all.”
He held her gaze as he exposed her other delightfully plump breast and covered it with his hand. “I love everything about you, Calliope. To me, you are perfect.” And then because he could no longer resist temptation, he lowered his head and claimed her nipple.
Calliope gasped with pleasure as Jonathon encircled her aching nipple with his lips and suckled. Desire gathered and pulsed in all her secret, feminine places and she was suddenly so weak in the knees, she had to grip Jonathon’s wide shoulders to keep herself from falling.
When he transferred his attention to her other nipple, a moan spilled from her throat. She’d never known wanting such as this. It was exquisite and overwhelming. All her nerve-endings were alight, her senses heightened. Jonathon’s silky hair brushed the back of her fingers as she clutched at him. The rasp of his tongue against her tender flesh felt like hot velvet. As he ruthlessly suckled at one breast and pinched and played with her other nipple, her whole body became engulfed in shivers of delight. But soon she sensed she needed something else from him. She might be a novice in the bedroom, but she’d read enough of that naughty tome The School of Venus to have an idea of what would come next.
“Jonathon…” Calliope tugged at his hair and he raised his head.
His eyes were heavy-lidded and glazed with passion as they met hers. “I want you naked, my love,” he whispered, and she smiled.
“Only if you grant me a similar favor.”
He grinned. “Gladly.”
Calliope sat upon the edge of the bed and watched Jonathon with avid interest as he stripped off his cambric shirt and tossed it aside.
She licked her lips and whispered, “You’re beautiful.” His lean, rigid torso and the hard swell of biceps and pectoral muscles gleamed in the golden lamplight. She curled her fingers into the counterpane; they itched with the need to trace all of those sleek planes and contours. Explore the bronzed nubs of his small nipples and the scattering of black hairs covering his chest. The dark trail arrowing down into his leather breeches…
Oh my. His swollen manhood strained against the placket.
When she looked up, his eyes were as dark as the midnight sky. “Your sweet words and the way you look at me enflames my desire for you all the more, Calliope. I can’t hide how much I want you.”
With that, he tugged off his boots and hose and then he was unfastening his breeches. His engorged penis jutted proudly above a tight thatch of black curls and Calliope gasped. “Oh, my goodness, you’re positively massive.” An embarrassed blush scorched her cheeks. “I mean… you’re magnificent.”
He chuckled. “Either word will do, my love.” Then he stripped off completely and eyed her chemise. “It’s time for you to return the favor.”
Why not? she said to herself. Her breasts were already bared. And it was only fair. It was time to be bold. Drawing in a deep breath, Calliope rose to her feet, then wiggled out of her shift. It fell to the floor with a soft whisper.
“Well…” Jonathon’s voice was soft and low as his gaze unabashedly roamed over her body. “If I had to pick a word to describe you, my lady, it would be spectacular.”
“Really?” she whispered.
He stepped forward and grasped her shoulders. The look in his eyes was so tender and adoring, it made her breath hitch. “Really.”
He gently pushed her down onto the bed but instead of following her there, he dropped to his knees on the floor. Confused, she raised herself up onto her elbows. “What are you doing?” she asked.
His mouth tilted into a rakish grin. “I’m looking for freckles.”
She frowned. “Well you won’t find any down there.”
He cocked a brow. “Are you certain?” His large hands slid from her ankles up to her knees, raising gooseflesh, and then he was gently coaxing her legs apart.
“Jonathon?” she whispered nervously.
“Oh look, there’s a scattering just here.” He lowered his head and placed a kiss on the inside of her left knee. “And more here.” His tongue licked a wicked path up her thigh, making her squirm and gasp with the unexpected pleasure of it.
He wedged his entire body between her thighs and caught her gaze. “I think I’ve found another freckle or two, right here,” he murmured as he brushed his fingertips through the coppery curls covering her mound. “But I think a closer, more intimate inspection is required. Perhaps even a taste…” He arched a brow. “If you’ll let me…”
Oh… Calliope licked her lips. While his wicked, perhaps even indecent suggestion was shocking, she couldn’t deny she was curious. And the pulsating ache in her sex was more intense than ever. In fact, she was desperate with need. Still, she felt compelled to say, “You want to taste me down there? Are you sure?”
His thumb rubbed against an exquisitely sensitive part of her—the hard little nub that was throbbing the most—and he smiled when she shivered in response. “Most assuredly yes. I’m dying to make you come with my mouth alone.”
“Oh… very well then.” How could she possibly say no to a request like that?
Her heart galloping, Calliope lay back down upon the bed and closed her eyes. Jonathon shifted; his wide shoulders spread her legs even farther apart. His wicked fingers slid through the moisture that had gathered between her feminine folds… and then he touched his tongue to her core and Calliope cried out. “Oh… Oh, sweet heaven… Oh.”
The extraordinary sensations coursing through her body were indescribable. Incredible. As Jonathon suckled and licked and lapped with enthusiastic abandon, Calliope writhed and panted and moaned, shamelessly arching her hips and pressing herself against his clever mouth. She couldn’t help herself. She’d never imagined, never dreamed that love-making could be like this.
The exquisite tension steadily building inside her grew stronger. Tighter. Her body trembled. Pleasure rippled. Called to her. And then all at once she found the ecstasy she’d been seeking. It broke over her in a great, devastating wave and she cried out Jonathon’s name. Clutched as his head.
And then she collapsed onto the mattress, a quivering, wholly satisfied woman.
All thanks to the man she loved. Jonathon.
He joined her on the bed and gathered her close. “My beautiful, Calliope, what joy you bring me,” he murmured against her hair.
She nuzzled his chest then raised her head to kiss him. “I want to bring you joy too.”
“You will, my love. But let’s find it again, together.” He pushed her onto her back then reared over her, like a beautiful, powerful beast. Holding his weight on one forearm, he then spread her legs with a nudge of one knee. The length of his manhood lay hot and heavy against the tender, sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. “I’ll be as gentle as I can when I first enter you, sweetheart. But despite my best efforts, it might hurt.”
Calliope caressed his strong back, reveling in the feel of his muscles rippling and shifting beneath her palms. “I won’t mind at all. I want this, Jonathon. I love you and I want you inside me. For us to become one.” She offered him a smile, hoping he could see how much she trusted and adored him.
The light in Jonathon’s gaze was infinitely tender as he brushed an errant curl away from her face. “I love you too, Calliope.” And then he parted her slick, virgin flesh, and pushed forward, claiming her body in the most fundamental and profoundly intimate way.
His entry burned at first and Calliope squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip to suppress her whimpers of pain. Yes, it hurt, but she could bear it. Because for Jonathon, the man that she loved, she would
do anything.
Gradually, by degrees, the discomfort subsided. Indeed, the way Jonathon’s length stretched and filled her was satisfying in and of itself, and as he began to rock his hips, gently sliding in and out of her wet heat, Calliope started to relax. Pleasure sparked and very soon, Jonathon’s bolder, more forceful thrusts were driving her toward bliss yet again.
“Calliope. Oh, God you feel so damn good.” Jonathon buried his face in her neck and groaned as his plunging grew faster. Wilder. And Calliope’s heart soared. The heady knowledge that she was bringing Jonathon pleasure too, was sublime.
He raised himself up, hovering over her. One hand speared through her hair as his lust-filled gaze seared into hers. “I want us to come together, my love,” he panted. “Tell me when you’re there.”
“I will.” Calliope wrapped her legs about him, welcoming his increasingly frantic thrusts, matching his rhythm, and it wasn’t long before she felt as though she was being swept away, carried higher and higher. So high. Any moment Jonathon would push her over the edge.
“Yes! Oh, God.” Calliope’s body spasmed and arched as thought-robbing pleasure claimed her a second time. But a heartbeat later, Jonathon reached the point of climax too. He pumped into her, once, then twice more before collapsing on top of her with a great shudder, groaning her name as his member jerked and pulsed, filling her with his hot seed.
Some time later, when they lay happy and sated in each other’s arms, Calliope was roused by her husband-to-be’s tender kiss.
“Don’t tell me you want to make love again, Jonathon Townsend,” she murmured sleepily. “Of course it was wonderful, but I’m afraid you’ve worn me out.”
He chuckled softly and cradled her jaw with one hand, tilting her face upward so their gazes met. “Not quite yet, my sweet. It’s just that I can’t quite believe you’re here with me like this. I’m the happiest, luckiest man in the world. And I want you to know that no matter where we are—whether that’s in the middle of the Indian Ocean, or on Mauritius, or back in England—my home will always be with you.”
As Calliope brought her lips to Jonathon’s, there wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that this was the very best day—and night—of her life.
And the most wonderful thing of all… she knew that with Jonathon by her side, there’d be countless more to come.
About Amy Rose Bennett
Amy Rose Bennett has always wanted to be a writer for as long as she can remember. An avid reader with a particular love for historical romance, it seemed only natural to write stories in her favorite genre.
She has a passion for creating emotion-packed—and sometimes a little racy—stories set in the Georgian and Regency periods. Of course, her strong-willed heroines and rakish heroes always find their happily ever after.
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The Stormswept Stowaway
by Ellie St. Clair
Chapter 1
Liverpool, England
1730
Silence was currently her ally.
Penny bit her lip hard to keep from making a sound as boots struck the planks of the deck above her. She pulled her legs even tighter into her chest, as though if she made herself small enough, she would entirely disappear from sight.
If only she could. That would solve many of her problems.
She simply had to remain unnoticed, however, until the ship was out to sea, far enough from land so that there would be no impetus to turn around and deposit her back on shore.
Although, if she did manage to stay hidden for the entire journey, it would be far preferable, though quite unlikely.
She took the deepest breath that she could manage down in the stifling hold. She was wedged between two barrels, the contents of which were unidentifiable, though around her was an interesting mix of scents that reminded her of ale, charcoal, and spice. She had no idea where this merchant ship was sailing, but at the moment, she didn’t much care — as long as it was far from here.
Penny realized that the boots above her had stopped moving, and she breathed a sigh of relief, hopeful that this particular vessel would not carry a great many sailors. Part of the reason she had even selected this frigate was because of the lack of activity surrounding it.
She was to be disappointed.
Suddenly what had sounded like a solo tapping erupted into an entire chorus of footsteps above, so much so that if she didn’t know better, she would have thought the entire deck overhead was about to cave in on top of her. They seemed to be taking part in some strange dance up there — then she realized exactly what they were doing. She fell backward when the ship gave a huge lurch, clearly pushing away from the dock. She scrambled back up onto her hands and knees, bracing herself between the two kegs and the bulkhead as the ship began to sway from side to side.
At last.
They were setting out to sea.
Despite the fact that she was currently trapped in this hold, a wide smile broke out on her face as her spirit seemed to soar free with the movement of the ship.
Penny had been yearning to leave land for years now, ever since she had been forced off her uncle’s ship where she had felt so at home.
She was prisoner no more.
There was nothing in front of him but the crystal clear blue expanse of water stretching as far as the eye could see.
This was why he sailed.
Well, in addition to the gold that lined his pockets.
Perhaps, also, the pleasure that filled him knowing that Captain Ramsay was a name feared by all who heard it.
For was one truly even a pirate if his name didn’t evoke terror?
Ramsay grinned broadly as he stood atop the forecastle and surveyed the main deck below, where his men scurried to and fro as they converted his ship back to the feared Raven’s Wing instead of the costume of a merchant ship it had worn at port.
It was astonishing how the change of sails and clothing of his men could allow them to hide in plain sight.
Now he was on a new course — one to track down Hernandes Ortego, captain of The Crusader — the man who had been thwarting him for far too long.
How much simpler his life would be with Ortego removed from it.
How much richer as well.
He smiled grimly as he took the steps down from the forecastle to the deck below, his men parting as he walked through them. He had taken a prisoner while at port in Liverpool, and the man was currently awaiting him down in the hold.
Well, that was, if he had as of yet awoken. His boatswain, Aloysius, had perhaps hit him slightly too hard. Ramsay was somewhat concerned that the man might not have survived, but he was breathing well enough when they had first placed him in the barrel and rolled him onto the ship. Now they would just have to check that they hadn’t addled his mind.
“Captain, would you like me to go rouse Ortego’s man?” Aloysius asked, but Ramsay shook his head.
“Best I do it,” he said darkly.
“’Twas an accident—” Aloysius began to defend himself, but at Ramsay’s sharp look, he desisted.
“Can I kill ’im afterward?” Aloysius asked hopefully as Ramsay began striding away, but Ramsay had no care to respond. Incompetence cost him and he had no time for it. Unfortunately, he had to place loyalty above competency, and there was none more loyal than Aloysius — except, perhaps, his quartermaster, Bastian.
The prevalent sound over the waves crashing against the side of the boat was his boots hitting the boards of the deck as Ramsay took the stairs down to the crew’s quarters and then finally the hold below. It had been quite some time since he had found himself so far below deck. It was one of the benefits to being captain — he could delegate all of the tasks he had no intent in completi
ng himself.
It was dank and dark in here, though organized. Ramsay was clear that all aspects of his ship were to be as orderly as that of a naval vessel. It was much more efficient, whether at sea, port, or even during the chaos that reigned during a raid or an attack.
Ah, here must be the barrel Aloysius rolled in — the one marked with the red X on top, right by the entrance. Ramsay unsheathed his cutlass to pry off the lid when he heard something from the corner of the hold.
Must be a rat, he thought with a swear. Damn things got into the provisions and not only ate what was for his men but brought diseases onboard. He would have none of that. He picked up the cutlass and stealthily inched across the room to find the thing. He heard the noise again — almost akin to a whimper, he thought, but never mind that, the rodents made all sorts of noises.
There it was, coming from between the two barrels in the corner. Enough light shone through the porthole that he should be able to see it, and he prided himself on being faster than even the wiliest of creatures. Ramsay lifted the cutlass, stepped forward, and began to swing the sword down with all of his might.
Chapter 2
Penny raised her hands above her as a shield, though she knew her pathetic attempt to protect herself would have little effect upon the weapon that would end her life. When she’d caught sight of the man as he had entered the storeroom, she had been unable to breathe.
She had known then, that this was no merchant ship.
She knew that face. Highlighted by the sun that filtered through the doorway when he entered was the face that covered every wanted poster on the streets of Liverpool. He was Captain Ramsay — a pirate known for never taking a prisoner he did not kill, who was merciless when it came to exacting revenge and taking what he determined should be his.
