by Dara Joy
Ginny dug her fingers into his shoulders and tried to coax him back, anything to alleviate the raging, mad desire he had incited in her.
“Is there something you want from me?” he purred softly. Like a cat to a luckless mouse.
Ginny realized his game at once and stepped back from him. He was about to find out that she could be a worthy opponent. “I’d like to oblige you, Tyler, however–”
The pirate tugged her back to him in no uncertain terms. “Oh, you definitely will oblige me, Ginny.” His hardened member grazed along her slick outer channel, causing both of them to shudder.
Yet, the fight was still in her; she wasn’t ready to concede the sensual victory to him. Shocking him, she reached down between them and encircled the base of his manhood. On instinct, she squeezed slightly.
A husky groan escaped his lips.
It was her turn to arch an eyebrow. It had not occurred to her that she could have just as much power over him. Maybe more? She repeated the action, only this time, she tugged a little.
The man could not hide his tremor of pleasure.
Curiosity filled her with a new sense of adventure.
It was hard to explain, but she rather liked the reaction and wanted to explore it further.
Tyler didn’t give her the chance. If his wife thought to match him on this ground, he had no objection– but she would have to find another time to do it. Their recent separation, his unplanned rescue on Creaze’s ship, and memories of their last time together were all taking a steep toll on him. A tidal wave of emotions deluged him. His manhood swelled, his heart pounded, his skin tingled–
God’s teeth, he was a friggin’ tempest!
Right now, he had only a mind to sail her like blood and thunder.
Yanking up her gown with his fists, his arms lifted her onto him with an impressive strength. Without prelude, he impaled her to the hilt, right in front of his windows, in his cabin, with booted feet firmly placed on the deck of his ship.
This time there was no barrier to impede him.
He surged into her deeply and completely.
Ginny cried out with the sudden exquisite fullness, the feel of him buried inside. Throbbing ridges and smooth curves. Blistering hot and velvet hard.
He repositioned her legs higher at his waist by hooking his forearms under her knees and thrust sharply into the tight wet canal. Tyler had thought of nothing save her taste and scent for days. He was half-mad with wanting her and proved it by stroking her senseless.
Long, pounding thrusts that had her clutching at his shoulders, digging her nails into his shirt.
Then he suddenly stilled inside her– driving her utterly mad. It was a dangerous punctuation against such raw male beauty. “Wh-what are you doing?” she choked out, trying in vain to regain her sanity from the carnal onslaught.
He gazed at her with half-closed eyes, the opal colors sparking in the moonlight. Then he titled his head to the side and slowly licked up the side of her neck. Over that spot that had his name on it.
Ginny tried to squirm in his grip, but he held her secure. She could feel him pulsing inside her as he continued to teasingly, maddeningly lap the side of her neck.
“Oh my God, please, Tyler!”
But he would not relent. The sensation tingled through her, causing her moisture to soak him. She could feel him growing impossibly thicker inside her.
He was not the gentle lover that had taken her in England.
No, he was not that man now.
That hot tongue licked up the side of her throat as he remained buried inside her, his seat snug. Teasing and torturing by staying still below while his mouth played. When she thought she would scream if he didn’t stroke inside he gave her something to scream about. He flexed inside her forcefully– but did not thrust.
The motion hit a spot inside her that made her entire body spasm toward release.
So close... Only he kept her just at the edge.
Ginny’s breath caught at his earthy sensuality, the uninhibited intimacy of the act. In that instant, she knew the Panther and he took her breath away. He flexed sharply yet again without moving, letting her experience every tremor he felt as well.
Gasping, she looked up at his face. Their eyes locked in a moment of complete candor. And for just an instant Ginny had a brief glimpse through the windows of his soul.
The pirate captain surged powerfully within her.
The eloquent rakish lord understood the proper timing of press and hold.
Yet... It was Tyler who eyelids flicked in surprise and recognition. Tyler who finally closed his eyes and let the sensations overtake him. Tyler who surrendered utterly to his passion.
He thought he would drown.
He thought he was being reborn.
He clutched her buttocks in a death grip and ground into her, as if, by doing so, he could completely become one with her. Waves splashed against the hull in time to his ragged moans. She trembled in response, drawing him further into her slick canal.
“You’re killing me,” he rasped. And gripped her tighter until he could take no more.
When he exploded inside her, he thought he had touched heaven.
Or as close as one such as he was likely to get.
PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP
So, it appears none of us are who we appear to be. Fancy that. Yes, I was quite stunned. Meeting the Panther was, in some strange way, like adding an unnamed spice to a heretofore familiar recipe. His flavor, delectable before, was suddenly, greatly, intensified. The man was becoming rather fascinating... We were husband and wife who were not exactly husband and wife, and my lord husband was now my lord pirate. I found, to my horror, that I had shackled myself to a much wilder version of Lord Devon than anyone could have imagined...
“Methinks I Have Met The Ironic Error”
Egads, I am hornswaggled! You might ask yourself, dear readers, how could such a strapping young buck as meself, a knight of the quill, be in such a predicament? And if it could happen to him surely it could happen to any of us, at any time? Yes, yes, it could. As we merrily plod on, Fate is around the next bend, standing on our path with her foot stuck out, waiting patiently for us to pass by. Trip, you will. Do try not to fall smack on your face on the way down...
-Sir R. Moore
PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP
Chapter Twenty-Two
"He saved us?"
Henley produced an ornate pocket fan and rapidly waved it in front of his face. Her cousin always seemed to have an endless supply of accouterments wherever he went.
Ginny informed Henley and Mabel about Captain Creaze's perfidy as they huddled around the small table in the Panther's cabin the following morning. She had fallen dead asleep after her heady encounter with the Panther last night.
When she woke, Tyler was once again gone.
Ginny briefly wondered if the man ever stayed around long enough to wake up with a woman.
At least her trunk had arrived via some scruffy looking characters and she had been able to dress.
"Well, yes, the Panther took us off that horrible ship; although it was not as if he actually rescued us," she corrected her cousin’s misconception.
"Don't be splittin' hairs," Mabel waved off her view of it. "He saved us and we're fortunate that he did."
Ginny grimaced, still annoyed at the entire situation.
Henley waved the little fan faster. "Imagine, me on a ship of pirates... Who knows what could happen?" The fop seemed rather flushed in the cool room. "I mean anything could happen..."
Ginny threw him a look. "Henley get a grip on yourself.
We have to get off this ship as soon as possible."
He stared at her, shocked. "Why? Ah, I mean, of course we do. Who would have thought that our own Lord Devon is the notorious Panther? Fancy that!"
Instead of being suitably horrified, her cousin actually seemed to be enamored of the idea of being related to the scourge of the seven seas.
Mabel too.
Her stalwart m
aid sat back in her chair and puffed up her chest. "I always knew he was a right substantial one."
Ginny's mouth dropped open. "What are you two talking about? He is an infamous outlaw pirate! A thieving, traitorous renegade!"
"Oh, pssht!" Henley waved the fan in front of her nose as if she had just described a man who was late for tea– not the scourge of the seven seas. "Cool down, Ginny, and see the man. He is quite dashing, don't you think, Mabel?"
"Aye, I do."
Ginny threw up her hands. "I give up. You're both mad."
Mabel leaned forward. "Does the crew know who he is?" she whispered.
"Not all of them. So for all our sakes I suppose we should simply refer to him as Captain or... um, Panther," she finished on a dejected note.
They all agreed on that account.
There was a light knock on the door.
Cappy, the quartermaster, entered the cabin carrying a large tray burdened with food.
He surprised everyone by placing it with a flourish, not in front of Ginny, but before Mabel. "A fine woman such as yerself, beam-bottomed and galley built needs the proper sustenance."
Mabel ignored him and harumphed; but Ginny caught her glancing at the scraggily pirate out of the corner of her eye.
"Go on taste it," he urged her. "I oversaw Cookie.
Gave him an extra grog ta get it half right. Y' see, Cookie's not half-bad when he's half-right. Unfortunately, that only occurs when he’s half-soused. Try it."
Mabel sniffed the food then tentatively reached out and pinched off a small piece of what looked like something one step removed from hardtack.
Cappy nodded encouragingly. "Cookie calls it weebread, says it comes from his heathen homeland; although I don't know about that since the Captain stole him bodily off the Lion's ship."
Ginny was wondering what the grizzled pirate what blathering about when Mabel’s face lit up.
"Oy, it's not bad!" She grinned at Cappy.
He grinned back, nodding. "Told ya. The Lion weren't happy when he lost his Cookie. The two captains are always one upping each other. All in jest of course, since they's old friends. The Panther never would tell Lion wot he offered Cookie to get him off the Lion's ship."
Cappy scratched his head– no doubt freeing some fleas– and rambled on. "Course we lost our sawbones to the Lion not long after that. Supposed to find a new one somewhere, but where? And don’t go believin’ he’s been happy about all that," he rambled on incoherently.
Henley viewed the crusty little pirate through his lorgnette as if he were some odd, undiscovered specimen.
"Ginny, love, what is it saying and is it human?"
Ginny shrugged as Mabel dug into the food. "I have no idea. But from Mabel's expression the food is edible; we best get some before she finishes the entire tray."
They dug into the food which was much better than anything they had been served aboard the Abernathy. The three of them pounced on the food, ravenous after their ordeal.
Out of nowhere, Charles jumped onto the desk and vocally demanded a share of the booty.
Leave it to this cat to appear when food makes an appearance. Henley tossed him a section of the hard biscuit.
The pudgy cat caught it in his mouth, seemed surprised at what was now in his mouth, and then apparently concluded it was going to be edible. He stalked off, gritting it snugly between his teeth.
"Argh, he's got the soul of a pirate, that one does,” Cappy watched the scrappy cat with a certain fondness in his eye. "Belongs to the Captain, eh?"
Ginny bristled. "No, actually he is mine."
Cappy rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Hmmm. All makes sense now."
"And what is that?" She stiffened her back.
"Oh, nothin'." He tipped his moldy cap and exited the room singing a rather lewd song about seven old pirates and seven old ladies locked overnight in a tavern lavatory. And nobody seemed to know they were there.
Oh, dear.
"Henley, what does frig–"
Henley blanched. "Goodness, Ginny! Don't ask me that."
Ginny colored. "Oh."
Charles– having finished his chewy breakfast–
decided to go a foraging in her trunk. The wily feline used one fat paw to wedge the lid open far enough for him to worm his way inside.
Once inside, the lid naturally snapped shut on him.
The sounds of scratching and mad shuffling ensued. Followed by a loud, strident "Mrrroeeeew!"
Henley stared at the trunk through his lorgnette.
"Stap me, has he locked himself in there again?"
Disgusted, Ginny threw her napkin down and went to let the bothersome cat out. "One of these days, he shall get caught in there good and proper!" She snapped the lid open. "Out, Charles! And stop going into the tru- what is that?"
The fat cat jumped out with something utterly mangy caught between his teeth.
Ginny squinted at it.
"Oh no! It isn't! Don't tell me he hid that disgusting, ratty thing in there with my clean clothes!" She clenched her fists and furiously turned to the cat, ready to do murder.
"Charles, get back here!" she screeched.
Charles took a moment to give her a smug look over the edge of the molting wig before dashing out of the room as fast as his chubby legs could move.
Without thinking Ginny raced after him right up onto the deck.
And slammed right into something hard.
And piratical.
"Oof!"
He steadied her at the shoulders, catching a glimpse of fur as it whizzed by. "Let me guess."
"I will kill him," she muttered into Tyler's chest.
"Hmm, it's either me or the cat... Since the later was just spotted hotfooting it past the mizzen, I'd say I'm temporarily off the hook.” His observation was droll.
She glared up at him. "It is Charles, for now."
He arched a brow. "I am assured."
Ginny was going to say something completely nasty to him but sunlight broke through the clouds at that moment, almost haloing the blasted renegade. His opaline eyes glowed down at her through sooty, black lashes. Long tendrils of his hair were picked up by the ocean breeze to whip around him. And his lips– those utterly sensual lips that touched her everywhere last night– curled softly in a masculine expression that clearly implied he knew her.
It was wrong for a pirate captain to be kissed by the sun as if he were truth’s avenging angel. So what if he looked bloody fabulous into the bargain?
Angry with herself for even noticing his passing attributes, Ginny tried to pull free from his iron hold.
Which only made that hold tighter.
Fuming, she scowled at him. He had the nerve to widen his eyes innocently.
"By your charming expression, I take it you are not conducive to me running my lips along the side of your throat.” His thumb circled the tender spot he had spent a great deal of time licking the past night, “Just a beggar’s taste?"
He was outrageous! As if he had ever begged for anything. Captured and seized was more like it. Ginny tried to say something, she just wasn't sure what. The intimate suggestion did exactly as he intended: irritated her while forcing her to recall exactly how those silken lips felt grazing at her neck. She squinted at him, still speechless.
He smiled, just slightly. "No, I don't suppose you would want that.” He cocked his head to the side as if thinking the matter over. “That being the case, you probably wouldn't want the edge of my teeth to scrape along here either.." The edge of his hand brushed the side of her breast, leaving tingles in its wake.
The breath hitched in Ginny’s throat. Both from his caress and the impropriety of it.
Could anyone see him?
She glanced around the deck, but everyone seemed to be going about their business, paying no mind to them.
No one that is except those two scruffy fellows not-so-discretely elbowing each other in the sides. She suddenly recalled their names from the previous night.
; Hack and Slash.
Her shoulders bunched. Terrific. Well, at least, they were pretending not to look.
Seeing her embarrassment, Tyler bent to murmur in her ear. "What is this, sweet? Surely, you don’t want me to rub against your other lips with my–"
Ginny thought she might hate him then. Because that was exactly what she did want. And he knew it.
“Stop it,” she gritted out.
Having accomplished what he set out to do, he released her.
Ginny, however, was not one to receive without giving back.
Crossing her arms over her chest (more to hide her hardened nipples than as a challenging stance; although the stance did serve two purposes at once), she threw her own salvo. "Thank-you, my lord. In turn I will not be pressing my lips to..." She let her glance fall suggestively down his torso. "... anything."
A muscle pulsed in his jaw.
"And, certainly, I will not be running my nails down your back ever so lightly... "
Those incredible eyes flamed as the pirate stared her down, well aware of her challenge.
"And since it is such a warm day,” she blithely continued, fanning herself, “I would not think to stroke such a fire..."
"It's stoke a fire and have a care," he warned her in a husky voice.
"You do to a fire what you want and I shall do as I want." She arched a brow right back at him.
"Then you play with fire," he warned, locking eyes with her. "I am not the Lord Devon you knew from Islemoor Hall. Do not push me."
"Oh, I won't push you." She turned to leave, glancing at him over her shoulder. "No, I wouldn't think of doing that."
He snorted as she walked away, but his eyes never left her as she went to the railing and looked out to sea.
He had meant to stir her up with remembrances of their previous night. Instead, she had turned it back on him. All he could think of was her tentative touch, her soft lips, her clinging mouth, her trembling body moving under his, her–
"Capt'n?"
Tyler almost started. "What is it?" he barked out, much harsher than he intended.
Cappy lowered his voice. "There's a sail on the horizon.
Now I knows she's yer wife, Panther, but yer got ta keep yer mind on the job at hand. Although I'll grant ya she's a right comely lass just made fer making a man's mind wander..."
