Pirates, Passion and Plunder

by Victoria Vale

  “Mo Caragh,” the words felt right as he said them once again. The first time he was testing them, now they seemed natural. “I am going to finish undressing you, then undress myself. If you don’t want your first time to be on this table, you should get on the bed as soon as I take the last bit of clothing off you.”

  “What if I do want you to take me right here? Like this,” she asked.

  Rowan growled as he pulled her from the table and stripped off her leggings. He took in her trim legs and the thatch of strawberry curls at the apex of her thighs. He cupped his aching cods as he adjusted himself long enough to undo the ties of his own leggings, pushing them from his lean hips and stepped out of them. He never took his eyes off Caragh as she watched him. He fisted his cock and stroked it, in part to relieve some of the ache and partly to test her reaction. She did not flinch or shy away. Instead she licked her lips. Rowan felt himself drip when her eyes riveted to his cock.

  “Does it frighten you?”

  “Hmm? No. Fascinates, not frightens.” Caragh raised her hand tentatively but pulled it back.

  Rowan lifted her back onto the table and whispered against her ear, “Touch me. I long to feel your hands on me.”

  “Will you touch me in return?”

  “Wild horses couldn’t keep me from it.”

  Rowan bent as he lifted one of her breasts. As he suckled, he felt her hand reach between them and wrap around his engorged cock. He forced himself to slow his breathing as he took in the scent of lavender and saltwater that clung to her. As she began to stroke him, he pressed her down to the table’s surface. His body followed hers, and his tip glided along her entrance. He felt the tremble that coursed through her at this introduction to something that must have felt very foreign to her. He could barely remember the first time he was with a woman, but he did remember it had been nearly too much for all his senses at once. His hand covered hers as he guided her to stroke him faster and then slower, alternating the pace.

  “Do you understand what happens next? Do you know how our bodies will join?”

  “Yes. My mother explained it many years ago.”

  “There is a difference between being told and understanding.”

  “Then perhaps you should show me to see whether I did understand.” Caragh pulled her feet back to the edge of the table to lift her hips toward him. She had was resolved to her earlier decision, and she intended to maintain the little control she had in this situation. She would find pleasure, perhaps even joy, in the arms of this man. What was done was done; she was here now, with a man she would not deny she wanted.

  Rowan was tempted to plunge into her, but the point of his question had been because he knew she was a virgin. He would hurt her despite wanting to do anything but. He could do his best to ease her initiation. He slid a finger into her sheath and felt the dew coat it. Her hips rocked toward him, so he slid one, then two more, into her. He pistoned his fingers into her just as his cock would do soon enough. His thumb made slow circles around her bud. Her hips lifted in rhythm to his fingers and the hand still wrapped around his rod stroked him. Rowan knew she was ready when her legs began to quiver, and her breath hitched. As her back arched off the table and she moaned her release, he lined up his sword with her sheath. He clenched his teeth as he surged forward. He seated himself to the hilt and froze. He felt her muscles seize around him, and he wanted to thrust over and over. It was the first time in years that he felt a cunny suck his cock in all the way to his cods. He preferred other methods of pleasure. Ones that prevented disease and children.

  Caragh gasped at the invasion, but waves of ecstasy crashed over her and masked the pain she expected. Now her body needed to adjust to the feeling of intrusion. It was not unpleasant, just unprecedented. She looked at Rowan and saw his jaw twitch as he clenched his teeth. She realized he was not moving. He was waiting for her, and it was taking every bit of self-restraint he had. Her heart thudded for a different reason as she realized he was not going to take advantage of her for his satisfaction alone. She reached out and cupped his jaw.

  “Come here,” she knew her words were a double entendre, and she meant them.

  Rowan’s breath hissed from his lips as he leaned over Caragh.

  “You don’t know what you do to me.”

  “If it’s anything like what you’re doing to me, then it would be bliss.”

  Rowan was sure the sound that came from him was a whimper as his mouth sought hers. This kiss had none of the frenzy of before. It was tender and languid. It was unlike any other kiss he had ever shared, but then he had never deflowered a virgin before and rarely kissed any of his bed partners. His hips rocked slowly until Caragh began to squirm beneath him.

  “Rowan,” she begged. He looked into her eyes and saw need he was sure she did not understand.

  “Wheest, mo leannan. I’ll make it better. I just didn’t want to hurt you any more than I had to.”

  “You didn’t hurt me. But Rowan--” her words trailed away as her body welcomed his. She lifted her hips in tandem with his thrusts. As the need gained a hold of her, she scraped her nails along his back, and Rowan was sure she would leave marks. In the past, such an act annoyed him. He did not like women who thought to mark him as theirs. With Caragh, he wanted to encourage her. He rather liked the notion of being hers, and it was the most disconcerting idea that ever passed through his mind. This coupling was unlike any other he had ever experienced, and there had been enough for this lifetime and the next. But his intuition already knew Caragh was unlike any other woman he had ever met.

  He looked at her as she chanted his name in a whisper-like mantra. Her head was tilted back once again, and her throat begged for his attention. He licked a path from her collarbone to her earlobe, which he flicked before sucking. That was all it took for her to shatter within his arms. Her entire body went rigid, and the strength of her channel held his cock captive as his body took control, leaving his mind racing to catch up. Before he could pull himself fully loose, he spilled within her. He froze as guilt, shame, remorse, anger, and the need to thrust again waged a war within him. The damage was done, so he slid back into her as her knees cradled his hips. He stroked her hair away from her damp forehead, and he watched her rest beneath him with her eyes closed. She was like a mythical sea creature, a selkie from the fairytales his mother told him as a child. She had lured him in, and now he was guilty of the one sin he had yet to commit. He had never spilled his seed into a woman’s cunny. He had spilled it on and in other parts of a woman, but he had never risked creating a child, not even when he was a green lad. His position within his clan had dictated he take care, and his traveling had shown him the hardships unwed mothers faced. He had no intention of leaving bastards strewn left and right and would not abandon his children, so he always took care to prevent them. This time, his conscience had fallen silent as his body felt like it had come home at last.

  Now that the need was satiated, he had time to regret his actions. He held the most beautiful woman he had ever seen within his arms. A woman who was full of fire and ice, a woman who challenged and amused him in equal measure, a woman he may have trapped in a far tighter noose than he originally intended. If she did carry his child, he would never be able to let her go. He would not take a child from its mother, but he had pledged years ago never to desert his child.

  Chapter 4

  Caragh’s eyes fluttered open, and she blinked several times to focus. Rowan was quick to hide his thoughts. He would not let her believe he regretted bedding her, not when this was her first time with a man. He did not truly regret the bedding part, only the finish. And even that was not entirely accurate. He relished the pleasure his body experienced, but he was now tormenting himself for being irresponsible and selfish.

  Caragh sensed a change in Rowan as she ran her hand over his arm to his tattooed shoulder. She moved to her elbows.

  “You regret this.” She said this despite their bodies still being joined.

  “No,�
�� he was quick and adamant to respond before she misunderstood him.

  She tilted her head as she stared at him. “You don’t regret the pleasure, but you regret the finish. You didn’t intend to spill within me.” She watched Rowan flinch as guilt swept across his face. “Rowan, I know how babes are made. I understand the risks I took, but I’m the one who took them. It’ll be me who will manage any consequences. Rest easy, I am not going to make any demands.”

  Rowan was unsure if his shock was born of surprise at how blithely she made a life-altering proclamation or anger from her assumption that he would give up his child so easily. “And if I’m the one to make demands?” he growled.

  Her look of confusion would have been amusing if he were not already feeling his temper rising. This woman had brought him to the peaks of pleasure and irritation in the matter of a couple hours. She had a greater effect on him than anyone he had ever met.

  “Caragh, I do not make a practice of planting my seed in any woman’s womb. I have been very careful until this moment. I seem to have no sense where you are concerned, otherwise, I would not have brought you aboard once I realized you were a woman. But if a babe results from this lapse in judgment, I will not turn my back on either of you. The babe will be as much my child as yours.”

  Caragh pushed at his chest and tried to scramble away from him for the first time all night. She lashed out and kicked as she truly fought to break loose. She took Rowan by surprise, but he quickly pinned her arms above her head in one hand as the other grasped one of her legs. It did not stop her from writhing beneath him. He felt himself harden inside her just as he had been about to slip free. She felt it too, because her movement changed from one of fury to one of arousal.

  Rowan groaned as his hips rocked forward. Caragh no longer fought him but hooked her ankles around his waist. She did not try to break loose of his grasp. Instead, it had been that move that changed her mood. “Is this how you like it, mo Caragh? Do you like being my captive?” His breath floated across her ear and made her shiver.

  “Yes,” she begrudgingly admitted. “God help me, but when you make me feel like this, I don’t want to be anywhere but beneath you. Or perhaps on top.”

  Rowan sucked in a breath, surprised by her for the umpteenth time that night. Her wish was his command. He scooped her up and brought them to his bed. He held her as though he feared dropping her, even though they both knew he would not. He climbed onto the bed then lowered them before rolling over, so she lay straddled across his hips. Caragh sat up as she adjusted to the new sensations of how deeply he penetrated her. She rocked her hips, and a long moan escaped her as his cock felt as though it could reach her heart. She braced her hands on his chest as she tested different movements and rhythms until she found one that spurred them both into a frenzy.

  Rowan could not tear his eyes from her. Plenty of women had ridden him, but he had never given up control and let a woman set the pace. Now he watched as Caragh discovered the pleasures of the flesh, and he would do nothing to impede her exploration. It was the most magnificent sight he had ever beheld her breasts swinging as her hips rolled back and forth. He cupped the backside he had felt through the woolen leggings. It was as lush as he suspected, and he dug his fingers into the soft flesh. He knew the pain must be biting, but the tighter his grip, the wilder Caragh grew. She flourished under the tenuous balance between pain and pleasure. No other woman he had ever known could compare to Caragh, and Rowan suspected in that moment that he had met his match and his mate.

  Caragh ran her hands over the peaks and valleys of his abdomen, fascinated as the ridges moved and flexed at her touch and the rocking of his hips. His thrusts pressed deeper and harder with each surge. He was so deep within her core that the pleasure was tinged with pain, and the more his fingers gripped her bottom, the more desire crashed over her. She felt restless as the rising tension she now recognized surged then retreated just beyond her reach. Frustration was on the brink of taking over from her arousal. She shifted and tried to find a position that would bring on the climax her body demanded.

  “Not enough,” she whimpered quietly.

  “What do you want, mo Caragh? What can I do?”

  She shook her head as she swallowed a sob.

  “I don’t know. I like how it feels within me, but I-- I don’t know. I-- I miss feeling your body over me. I want--” She stammered to convey thoughts she could not fully form.

  Rowan knew she was confused and did not know how to express these newly discovered needs. He suspected that she did not shy away from his dominance; instead, she sounded as though she craved it. He sat up and lifted her from him as she clawed to hold on to him.

  “Shh, mo leannan. I will make it better. I promise.” He kissed her, and she calmed. He climbed off the bed and pulled her to the edge. “Roll over and come onto your hands and knees.”

  She obeyed immediately and looked back over her shoulder.

  Rowan stroked himself as Caragh positioned herself. She intuitively understood to spread her knees wide and thrust her hips back to meet his cock as he surged into her. He draped his body over hers and laced his fingers through hers. They swayed together as they panted in unison. Caragh felt as though she was floating above them and watching a scene between two strangers, even though her body recognized the age-old physical demands that grew between a man and woman.

  “Is this what you need?”

  “Yes,” she sighed. “But don’t hold back. Rowan, you won’t hurt me. More.”

  Her words set off a maelstrom, and Rowan felt himself lose control. He grew rougher than he did except with the most seasoned of whores. He pounded his hips into hers as he slid one arm around her belly and the other swept up her hair.

  “Like this,” he hissed into her ear.

  “Mmhmm,” she could only moan her response.

  “I’m being rough with you, Caragh. This is your first time. I don’t want to hurt you, but you unleash something in me.”

  “Second time, so I’m fine,” she panted.

  Her quip earned her a slap across her backside.

  “Yes,” she screamed.

  Rowan nearly stopped when he realized that she did not toe the line between pain and pleasure but found pleasure in the pain. Her reaction was genuine, unlike the women he had to pay to respond like this. He reared back and brought his hand down on the other cheek. Caragh dropped onto her elbows, and her head rested on the bed, but the shift in position raised her backside to Rowan. There was not a bit of her he could not see, and he became heady with the need to show her pleasure in yet another way. He pulled free of her and dropped to his knees. His tongue struck out and flicked her nub before sinking into her. He rasped his teeth against her source of pleasure, which he knew was already sensitive from their first round of coupling. He sucked it into his mouth and drew hard on it before drawing his teeth against it again. Caragh screamed as she surrendered to the overwhelming blend of emotions and sensations. Rowan rose to his feet and stroked himself twice more before spilling across her lower back and the divide between her cheeks.

  A mantle of possessiveness cloaked him as he looked at the woman on his bed. He had never been possessive of any woman, and there were few things since he left home that inspired such an emotion. As he watched his seed slide along her satiny skin, he wanted to beat his chest and yell “mine.” He drew his finger through the viscous liquid until it was coated. He slid it from her lower back until it came to her puckered rosebud. When she did not clench–rather, she remained relaxed–he circled his finger around her sacred entry. He watched her, waiting for her to reject the intimacy, but instead she looked back at him. He saw curiosity and trust, and while the former eased his mind, the latter made his heart pinch. It also terrified him. He was unaccustomed to women trusting him so easily and openly. The women he usually associated with were not the trusting type. Caragh was proving to be just as lusty and adventurous as many of the whores he knew. But he suspected the lustiness was a newly discovered
emotion since she was twenty and came to him a virgin. Once again, his possessiveness roared alive. He wanted her to reserve her curiosity and desire for him alone. He tapped his finger against the tight sphincter while he watched her face. She nodded, and he pressed against it until the tip of his finger gained entry. He heard her inhale, and her muscles finally clenched. He was ready to retreat when she shifted to watch him more closely.

  “This is how you usually couple, isn’t it?”

  “How would you know about that?”

  “We already established that I frequent a tavern. You said you have no children, and you don’t appear to be pock-ridden, so this must be how you enjoy yourself. You certainly haven’t said you’re celibate.”

  Rowan laughed and shook his head.

  “I have not been that, I admit it.”

  “Very well.”

  “Very well?” Rowan could not fathom what that meant.

  “If that is what you like, I’ve enjoyed myself, now it’s your turn.”

  Rowan nearly swallowed his tongue. He shifted to stand next to her and eased her into kneeling, so they could look at one another without her having to twist around.

  “Do you think I haven’t enjoyed myself so far?”

  “You weren’t exactly thrilled the first time. If you had just done what you usually do, you wouldn’t have anything to regret.”

  Rowan’s eyebrows shot to his hairline.

  “You think I would initiate you into the world of pleasures of the skin by taking you in the arse? What kind of man do you think I am?”