by Angel Payne
As he expected, that got her gaze back in line. “S-Sir?”
He couldn’t help the wicked grin that tugged his lips. “Is the command confusing, Rose?”
“No, but—” She glanced at the big Bahamian who stood at the captain’s wheel, his back to them. “You mean everything? Here?”
He dropped the smile. “Yes, pet. And now. Don’t worry about Gervais. He’s been screened, and he’s the picture of discretion. He’ll be keeping his eyes on the ocean.” He cocked his head a little. “Unless you’d like him to watch?”
She glowered. “Are you trying to talk me into or out of this?”
He recrossed his arms. “I’m not talking with you at all. I’m ordering you, Rose. Clothes. Off. Everything. Now. You have thirty seconds. Anything that’s not off by then, I’ll tear and toss.”
Her mouth opened again, as if she got ready to fire off another objection, but then he looked at his watch with raised brows. Her stunned little “Shit!” got muffled as she peeled off her shirt. The shorts got shucked just as fast.
“Time’s up.”
He stated it as she hooked her thumbs into the waist of her delectably virginal white thong. After a sharp look from him, she dropped her hands.
Mark didn’t disguise his deep swallow. Christ, even nearly nude, his pet was breathtaking. The sunlight poured over her breasts like brandy. Her waist was a gentle, sexy curve. Her thighs were long, soft waves of curved grace. Her nipples puckered tighter beneath his rapt stare, and she bent her head again. The woman adopted a submissive’s perfect stance with zero training.
She made him hard in seconds.
Certain she observed that fact with where her gaze dropped, he nonetheless scooted forward until his toes were outside hers. Without another word, he hooked his index fingers into both sides of her panties.
Tore.
Hard.
She gasped. The garment dropped, exposing the mahogany curls at the doorway of her pussy. He looked back up, past the breaths lifting her chest, to find her wide gaze waiting for him. Her eyes burned with copper lights, glowing against thick shadows of desire.
Mark let her see the lock of his teeth. “Pick the panties up,” he directed. “But turn your back and spread your legs as you do. I want to see every crevice of the body that belongs to me right now.”
He heard every succulent note of her full, answering gasp. As she blew it out, she pivoted to obey him. He growled as she leaned over, exposing the lips of her sex, a secret pink seashell for him.
“Walk to the rail,” he directed. “And throw them in that trash barrel on the way. While you’re there, add that hair tie too.”
Once more, she complied with exquisite grace. He greedily stared his fill, his chest filled with pride and, yes, awe. She wasn’t a waif-thin debutante or even a doctored-up supermodel, though she carried herself with twice the poise of the first and thrice the style of the second. Her body belonged to another time when men worshiped elegant curves like hers. He was extremely glad this wasn’t a real pirate galleon, when he’d have to worry about a crew full of toothless Bluebeards who’d try to knife him to fuck her. It would’ve made him a mass murderer as well, because right now he’d gouge the balls off even a fly who tried to touch her.
By the time she’d tossed the wrecked panties and then set her hair free, turning it into a glorious russet banner in the wind, he’d moved up behind her. He clamped his hands over her wrists, fastening them down on the rail, while he fitted his lips against her ear. “Spread your legs again,” he told her. “Wider. Move your body. Fit your ass to my cock. You can feel how hard it is, can’t you? Do you feel what you do me, Rose?” An acquiescing whimper erupted out of her. He held himself still, squeezing his ass to lock himself in place as she rolled her hips and adjusted the soft globes of her backside against the pounding rod between his thighs. “Yessss. That’s it. Very good, honey.”
Her body quaked, but she undulated again, as mesmerizing as the waves beneath them. Mark matched her moves, blown away once more by how she fit so perfectly into him, almost losing himself to the magic of her—but they were a long way off from that. He realigned his head, the big one this time, to the purpose of why he’d secured her like this. He wanted her totally aware of him, surrounded by him bodily as he again tried to delve at her mentally.
“So, my pet, are you ready to talk now?”
“T-Talk?” She tensed. “I…I thought this was a punishment.”
“Aren’t they one and the same for you right now?”
“What’s that supposed to— Ohhhh!”
He squeezed his fingers tighter over the breast he’d cupped. “All right, I’ll even make it easier. I’ll tell you exactly what we’ll talk about.” He pulled at her flesh, making her nipple stand out so he could tease its tender tip with his fingernail. “I know you got a phone call when I was out this morning. I know it was your brother.”
Whatever she hadn’t stiffened against him before, she did now. He almost chuckled. As if he’d let her get away with any resistance. She seemed to know that too, visibly warring between what her body wanted and her mind protested. “This isn’t fair.”
“Nor was what you did this morning.”
“What I did this morning—”
“Was walk out without explanation, without a chance for us to talk, to work things through. You call that fair?”
Mark let go of her breast and latched his hand around her free wrist again. She still tried to wrestle. “There’s nothing to work through. I just…can’t do this!”
“Damn it.” He snarled it against her neck. “When are you going to get it? I don’t scare that fucking easily, Rose. I don’t back down from the things I know are right. I won’t walk away from the people I know are right. And I’m not walking away—”
“From me?”
Her retort was wrapped in such pure pain, he slackened from shock. Rose, clearly waiting for the reaction, took instant advantage by twisting free and turning around. At once, she rammed both palms to the center of his chest.
“I’ve got a command for you now,” she snapped. “You need to walk.” Another shove. “No, you need to run.” One more. “I’m not the right thing, okay? I’m not the right person.” She tried one more, but her arms went limp. “God! How many more ways do I have to say it? Please, just—”
Her face crunched. Her punches at his chest hadn’t made a dent, but tears openly poured from her now. Damn it.
He was split wide open, heart and soul. He grabbed her wrists again, forcing aside his fury at her brother, at least from the ferocity of his physical hold. Yet when he spoke, all holds were off—and his rage was very much on.
“What the hell did he say to you? What the hell did that bastard do to your head now?”
She shook her head, crying harder.
“Rose. Goddamn it!” The curse tore up from his gut, a sound as raw as her sobs. He hauled her against him, clawing a hand at the back of her head. “Talk to me!”
He felt her breathing quicken, the words practically clamoring to get out of her. But when all she gave over was a frustrated huff, he pried her arms loose. Tore back from her.
His way was thoroughly clear.
His purpose was clearly defined.
If she wasn’t going to break down her wall, he’d tear it apart, brick by fucking brick.
“I’m sorry.” The words spilled from her on hollow chokes. They tore him deeper than her tears, though he scourged himself for not expecting them. Clearly she took his action as a final kiss-off—and naturally, she stumbled toward the puddles of her clothes. “I knew I shouldn’t have done this. I didn’t want it to come to this. I didn’t want to fail you. Shit. I…I didn’t want to care like this…”
“Stop.” He flung out his arm, his hand splayed like a damn superhero trying to stop a train. The comparison sure fit when it came to this woman. “Don’t you dare take another step. That is a huge fucking order.”
Her responding gape, along with her fas
t obedience, gave him deep satisfaction. And a rush of lust.
He stomped up the steps to the upper deck. A bank of shroud ropes waited there. The interlocked hemp ladders, fanning down from the main mast, were supposedly there just for the yo-ho-ho prop effect on the yacht. Yeah, right. The second he’d seen them this afternoon, plans had sprung for more interesting uses, if things came to that.
They’d come to that.
He swung an expectant stare back down at Rose. “Now you can move. Scoot your apologetic little ass up here, in front of me. You have thirty seconds again, woman, and they started five seconds ago.”
She was a delectable combination of frantic and sexy as she scurried, slid, and bounced up the stairs, gaining enough speed to crash into him upon arrival. Mark steadied her by grabbing her shoulders, tempted to let his hands pick up a pace of their own and glide right over her creamy breasts. But he knew that in minutes, those swells were going to be his to own and play with anyway.
He could wait…
Maybe.
Damn, damn, she was resplendent. Her cheeks, flushed from the wind, were kissed by thick tendrils of her hair. Her gaze reflected the sky, the sun’s umber glow mixing with the dark-chocolate depths threatening, as always, to pull him in and drown him alive.
He steeled his composure. Redoubled his focus. Now wasn’t the time for letting her drown him. There was only one way he was going to save this gift for which they’d both searched so hard and waited so long. Now was the time to plunge deep and pull out the Dominant who hadn’t seen the light of day for a while, a creature who hadn’t gotten out a lot even during his years with Heather. Huge reason for that. This side of him really was a twisted Bluebeard. But if the occasion—and the submissive—called for his heavier hand of kink, he’d bring it to the damn party. With pleasure.
“Still nothing to say?” He let the guy out slowly at first, letting him murmur the words while curving a possessive hand around her elbow. When he tightened his grip a little more, Rose dipped her head lower, an acknowledgment of his command. He looked at her head, baffled. So brave, so strong when it came to giving him her body, but Fort Knox about exposing anything else. Why?
He wasn’t getting off this damn vessel until he found out.
He pulled her toward the shrouds. “All right. On the ropes, face up. Spread yourself for me, arms and legs. The lines are secure and the angle isn’t steep; you won’t have trouble balancing.” He raised his brows at her wince of hesitation. “Is there an issue with my instructions, pet?”
She visibly trembled again at his last word. “You…you want me facing you?”
Mark cupped her cheek. “Oh yes, Rose. You’re going to face me. I’m going to watch you. I’m going to read you. If you won’t speak to me with your lips, you’ll speak to me with your body. I’m going to know every twitch, every reaction, every sensation you feel. I’m going to absorb it all.”
He let that sink into her psyche. It was erotic as hell to watch, her features betraying her inner struggle between Oh God yes, watch me please and a catty version of We’ll fucking see about that. She was so damned enticing that he could’ve studied her for another hour—if he didn’t know what was coming next. That lent him the strength to pull his hand back, letting her hustle into position as he pivoted toward a nearby gear locker.
The box he opened was marked Tackle and Hooks, could’ve still been the truth if that equipment was hiding under the bondage and discipline gear on top. He grinned, remembering Gervais’s pride when showing him the box during the vessel tour this afternoon. Maybe it was a special request the man got more often than Mark assumed. Whatever the reason, he was damn delighted for the treasure trove, a conclusion backed by his inner Bluebeard as he ran a hand along the items…
And formed a lesson plan for his stubborn little subbie.
Her unexpected intractability had forced him to considerably tweak things. He had to anticipate a true fight from her now. He would really have to turn the punishment over to the pirate.
He would have to keep thinking with the head atop his shoulders, no matter how hard the clamor got from the one between his thighs.
“Hell.”
He muttered that as soon as he turned back. His cock already challenged him on his resolution, reacting at once to the sight of his spread-eagle submissive. She was a fantasy come to life. Her hair flowed to either side of her wide-eyed face. The silk of her skin contrasted with her coarse rope bed, and he already imagined the patterns that would form across her back, thighs, and ass. And ohhhh, how he planned to mark the front of her chest, arms, and thighs…
As his mind spun the thought into some amazing images of erotic art, his erection pounded at his zipper. Control it. Control it. Think about the old days, maybe. A budget bill. A droning filibuster. Congressional minutes to review.
No dice. The torment got no better as he moved to her without a word, four lengths of red-dyed rope in his grip. He’d almost opted for the ease of spring cords, but this occasion called for a more primeval theme. She’d sealed that decision when she all but dared him to jam his hand down her throat and haul the words out of her. He moved with gruff concentration, deciding on easy buntline ties, rechecking the knots to make sure they were secure but not tight.
With every new knot he tied, he watched Rose’s reaction. This was going to be a different bondage experience for her. The sexy foreplay of last night wasn’t part of tonight’s roster. Nor was she going to get his kisses, his adoration, his seduction. She seemed to understand that, if he judged right from her lowered eyes and the serious set of her mouth. But he was resolved to doing much more than guessing at her mindset. He wanted inside her, all of her, and the communication of that goal started right now.
With the resolve coursing his veins, he cinched the last knots around her ankles. He watched her arms and thighs flex, testing the bonds. He hadn’t left much wiggle room, another silent sign to her, one he expected resistance for. But she stunned him yet again, her body going lax, her head lolling against the nets.
Christ. Was the tight captivity pleasant for her? Was his little Rose even more a natural submissive than he presumed?
The next moment brought his confirmation. Her eyes slid closed. Her breasts, while still sprouting the most erect nipples he’d ever seen, rose and fell on longer, deeper breaths. And her pussy…
Fuck.
He couldn’t hold back from dipping a finger into the moist curls at her center. For the first time since they’d boarded the boat, she gave a full-throated cry.
“Such a wet little cunt already.” He pressed his chest to hers, rolling a thumb along her clit. “Once again, racing on without permission.”
“I’m sorry, Sir.” Her voice dropped to a breathy gasp. “I couldn’t help it.”
“Of course you couldn’t, honey.” He trailed from her ear to her mouth with the tip of his tongue, making her shake and sob again. “But now that we’ve established how much your body yearns to be with me, it’s time we find out why your head keeps telling you otherwise. More importantly…about the bastard who’s been fucking with it.”
He punctuated that by withdrawing his fingers, moving to her sweet mound. He palmed her there with fierce possession.
“I’d ask if you’re ready, pet, but it doesn’t matter. Here we go, whether you like it or not.”
Chapter Sixteen
Damn. Damn.
Rose battled to hang on to the sanity of the word, to the coherent thought it took to form it, even silently. What the hell had happened to her? Three minutes ago, she’d listened to the man talk with the arrogance of a Dom dentist, planning to hit her with some magical kink Novocain and extract what he needed out of her head. She’d almost laughed at him. She’d definitely scoffed. Not where he could see her do it of course, but it wasn’t like she didn’t know what he could do to her. Mark had taken her to sexual and spiritual heaven more times in the last twenty-four hours than she ever dreamed possible. She knew what he could do with rest
raints, with words, and with those incredible, knowing hands of his. But she could handle all of that now. Maybe he really didn’t know how adept she could be at turning off parts of herself at will—even when the On button was him.
But that was just the problem.
He…wasn’t himself anymore.
Apparently the man had a different person stashed in that box he’d been sifting through. This Mark had the same carved golden torso, warrior’s stance, and precise confidence of the lover she thought she knew—but one look at his face told her differently.
This person was an illumination. His eyes burned with a strange new fire. His jaw was so taut it redefined the shape of his face. He’d transformed beyond her teacher, her lover, her Dominant. She seriously pondered if some merciless pirate had resurrected from the hold and taken possession of him.
She also wondered why the hell that turned her pussy into a floodgate.
And her mind into this wasteland.
She searched the blackness behind her eyelids, attempting to get centered again. Maybe if she just didn’t look at him…
“Open your eyes, pet.” The directive was pure granite but backed by a velvety caress to her face. It wasn’t his hand but something just as persuasive. “No drifting. Eyes right here, on your Master.”
Master. She loved the sound of that—and yeah, he probably knew it. Attempting a steady breath, she complied. Well…tried to. Her heartbeat went AWOL as she beheld him, more pirate-like than ever now that twilight had fallen, stroking the leather falls of a sizable flogger. Okay, so it seemed sizable. She wasn’t in a position to compare, as her few trips to Fallon’s favorite kink club had been more about watching the effects of floggers on subs, rather than the instruments themselves. Those memories, joined with the preview Mark had given her of this flogger, had her brain and her body duking it out for possession of her composure.
“Shit!” It spilled without thought. Mark—or whoever he was now—barely reacted beyond a satisfied glow in his eyes. Was he enjoying this? These things inflicted pain! She remembered that much. Vividly. And she wasn’t—
