by Sylvia Day
Experiencing the novel sensation of feminine power over a stunning man, Olivia experimented with wielding it. “You are mine, my lord. I can do as I please with you.”
Sebastian’s arms tightened around her, his breath hissing through his teeth as if she’d burned him.
She cupped his cheek with her hand, studying him. “No one has ever claimed you before,” she murmured perceptively, wondering what had happened in his life to mold him into the man he was today—a wanted man. She should be terrified to link her fate with his, but all she felt was wonder. “I do so with pride.”
Her husband rewarded her with a searing kiss, his hands cupping her buttocks and pressing her into his steely erection. He released her too quickly, circling her, making her ache simply from the heat of his gaze. And then he stilled behind her, silent, the rapid rush of their breathing the only sound in the room.
Olivia waited. Waited for him to move, to touch her—anything at all. Just before she turned in frustration, she felt his hands, sure and knowledgeable, on the fastenings of her gown. Breathless, she shivered under the faint brushes of his fingertips, fingers that had been inside her body, stroking her to rapture. With a soft press of his mouth on her shoulder and a bold sweep of his arms, Sebastian pushed her dress and corset to the floor.
For a moment, only a moment, Olivia was jealous over his obvious expertise at removing women’s garments, and then she wasn’t jealous, merely comforted. She was in good hands, skilled hands. Hands that knew all the secrets of a woman’s body and the places that brought her the most pleasure.
With infinite slowness, those expert hands slid over her breasts, down her waist, and into the apex of her thighs. They bunched up handfuls of her gossamer thin chemise, the fingers rubbing gently across her sex as they pulled the garment up her thighs bit by agonizing bit.
Her husband’s hard chest pressed against her back, his shoulders surrounded her, his heat consumed her, his breath gusted harshly against her ear. He was exceedingly powerful and so much larger than she was. He dwarfed her, yet Olivia was unafraid, finding comfort in his strength and reassurance in the tenderness of his touch. A brush, a sweep, his calloused fingertips teased her mound until she melted against him with a plaintive moan. Her breasts swelled and grew heavy, her body trickling moisture down the inside of her thighs.
Just as she was certain her knees would give way, those skillful hands dragged up her torso, brushing across her erect nipples before tugging the chemise over her head. She sagged into the shelter of his chest, loving the feel of his bare skin against hers. Sebastian had barely touched her, but already she hovered on the edge he’d pushed her over before. His devilish chuckle rumbled in her ear. He knew it.
“I want to look at you,” he whispered, his tongue swirling in the shell of her ear before he turned her around.
Olivia forced herself to remain still as his brilliant blue gaze raked her from head to toe. His large hands reached out and brushed along the top of her shoulders before sliding down her arms, leaving tingles in their wake. His fingers linked with hers, and he pulled her closer.
“Beautiful,” he breathed before placing a tender kiss on her forehead. “You are the most ravishing creature.”
His hands left hers and slid up her sides in a tickling caress before finally . . . finally ! . . . cupping her aching breasts. She moaned, drowning in his skilled seduction. She’d known her pirate would be like this, focused and intent, wickedly precise in overtaking her senses with his touch, his voice, his proximity.
Sebastian plucked at her erect nipples, tugging and twisting, before he lowered his mouth and licked the hard tips. “Look at me,” he ordered.
Olivia forced herself to meet his gaze, warmed by the need that smoldered there. She licked her bottom lip nervously, and he groaned, his mouth swooping down to press against hers. His tongue thrust deep, hinting at what was to follow. One hand kneaded her breast, while the other grabbed her wrist and brought her hand to his cock.
She gasped as the silken weight of him burned her palm. It was not what she’d expected, smoother and softer than the finest silk, yet hot and pulsing with life. She wondered how it would feel inside her. Would it burn her with heat? Stroke her with softness? Olivia shivered with anticipation. Regardless, she knew it would pleasure her. Everything about her husband pleasured her.
Sebastian curled his fingers over hers and moved her hand up and down his length in a hard, fast rhythm that soon had him shaking against her. Once she had the way of it, he left her to pleasuring him and slipped his hand between her legs.
He was everywhere at once—in her mouth, against her breast, in her hand, inside her sex. It was all too much, and yet it wasn’t. She wanted . . . “More,” she urged.
He smiled against her mouth. “Siren. Found at sea, and luring me to matrimony.”
Olivia pulled back, releasing his shaft.
Another of his fingers slid upward into her heat, and she was trapped, impaled in place.
“I’m not complaining,” he assured in a silky whisper. With an arm around her waist, Sebastian lifted her feet from the floor, his fingers still embedded within her as he carried her to the bed. He turned and lay down first, draping her across him, his arm trapped between them, his fingers still pumping into her. Her eyes slid closed on a moan as her body clenched around the welcome invasion. Desperate, she writhed over his hand.
Her blood was thick as syrup and hot, making her sweat. Olivia dropped her head to his chest and felt his nipple brush her cheek. She turned slightly and sucked it into her mouth, as he had done to her. His breath hitched in his throat, his body hardening beneath hers. Reaching for his cock, she began stroking it again, hard and fast like he had shown her. She felt naughty and wanton, a wild woman in his arms. Her hips rocked against his hand, pushing him deeper.
“No more,” he growled. Rolling her beneath him, Sebastian spread her stocking-clad legs with his own. He paused, the hairs on his chest scraping across her aching nipples. His fingers slipped out of her, and he spread the cream from them around her swollen opening. He moved higher, rubbing the slickness over her aching bud, making her squirm and beg beneath him.
“Sebastian . . .”
He buried his face in her neck. “Say my name again.”
“Sebastian . . . help me . . . I burn . . .”
“Yes, love,” he encouraged, his fingers sliding faster. “Burn for me.”
Her back arched, her eyes flew open, she hung on the edge . . . so close . . . so close . . .
Olivia cursed him when his hand left her sex and moved to her knee.
“Patience,” he murmured hoarsely. “I will take you there.”
He pulled her legs to his waist, and the heavy heat of his erection prodded her dripping opening. His gaze locked with hers, his forehead beaded with sweat. He lowered his head and mumbled, “Sorry, my love,” just before he thrust hard and deep within her.
Olivia bit back a cry, startled at the pain that obliterated her pleasure. She held still beneath him, tears filling her eyes and spilling over.
Sebastian’s tongue lapped up the wetness with the long, slow drags of a cat, soothing her even as he pressed inexorably inside. “If I’d gone slowly,” he explained, “the pain would have been worse.” He cradled her head in his hands, his eyes soft and tender with regret. “There is some good to this discomfort you feel.”
“What is it?” she gasped. She could see his concern, felt it in the reverence of his touch.
“I am well and truly compromised. You shall have to marry me, or I will be ruined.”
Unable to help it, Olivia laughed, even though it hurt. “Lucky for you, my lord, that we are already wed.”
“Ah.” He withdrew and then slid forward again, frowning when she winced. “I am a lucky man. My reputation is saved.” The pain began to lessen even as he finally buried his cock to the hilt. His ragged groan made her shiver. Dropping his head to her breast, he suckled her.
His big body strained an
d flexed as he started a rhythm and maintained it, pumping deep within her, his raven hair a curtain around them. His mouth was magic, his tongue swirling around the erect crest of her nipple. The steel of Sebastian’s cock began to burn, a wondrous sensation that intensified with the erotic sounds he made.
“Spread your legs,” he begged, gasping with obvious pleasure when she opened, giving greater access to his thrusts. “Press your body against me. God, yes . . . Livia . . .”
The fierce Captain Phoenix was clay in her hands.
Olivia arched upward, feeling his skin cling to hers with his sweat. She gripped his contracting buttocks, amazed at their feel, hard as stone. He swirled his hips, grinding into the source of her pleasure, and tingles spread outward, flushing her skin. He pressed into her again, repeating the movement, drenching her body in sensation.
His hips thrust and circled in an endless cycle, over and over, sweeping her higher. His touch was oddly gentle, despite the pistoning haste of his movements. His tenderness swept into her heart, bringing tears to her eyes. Olivia whimpered, lost in his possession. He felt so good, the friction so deep, the stretching exquisite.
“Yes, love . . .” His voice, thick and slurred with pleasure, enflamed her. “You feel . . . so damn good . . .”
He filled her with quick, hard strokes, no longer able to be gentle, and she didn’t care. She didn’t want gentle. She wanted passion—his passion.
Deep inside, her womb began to clench, then spasm. Arching her back on a scream, she shattered, her inner muscles clutching greedily at his invading shaft. Sebastian pinned her hips, holding her in place for his thrusts, drawing out her pleasure until she thought she would die of it. Only when she sagged into the mattress did he follow her, shuddering against her, gasping her name, filling her with scalding heat.
When it was over, Olivia lay stunned, clinging to her husband as the only anchor in a whirl of decadent pleasure.
It was forever before he spoke, his voice still passion-hoarse. “Hopelessly compromised,” he murmured, and promptly fell into a deep sleep.
Sebastian crossed the moonlit wharf in rapid strides. He was late for his meeting, but his tardiness was of little consequence to him. All that mattered at the moment was his sleeping wife and the panic she would feel if she discovered him missing.
Olivia was uncertain of his attachment to her, as he was himself, but she had given her body to him regardless, trusting him to be a gentleman and claim her as his bride. Nothing could force him to do the honorable thing. He was certain he could return her to her father and successfully fight the proxy. She was intelligent, and he’d been honest about his history, but she had taken him to her bed despite the risks.
She was the first person in his life willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, the first person who truly wanted him, not just for an hour’s pleasure or two, but for the rest of her life. He refused to lose her regard. Especially over the distasteful errand he was presently attending to.
Sebastian entered the seaside tavern and paused on the threshold, allowing his eyes to adjust to the interior.
“You’re late, Phoenix.”
He turned his head toward the voice. “Pierre,” he greeted coldly. “Dominique.”
The French pirates lounged by the door, and Sebastian felt a twinge of satisfaction. Their position was excellent. After what he planned to say, a hasty egress might well be required. In anticipation of trouble, he had set his own ship to sail that morning, lessening the targets that could be used to wound him.
The two identical brothers remained seated, gazing at him with soul-weary eyes. Sebastian was aware that most of the lightskirts in town found the Robidoux brothers attractive, but not a one would service them. The siblings’ sadistic carnal tastes were well known to all.
He looked them over with loathing. Many times over the last year he’d regretted his decision to join with them. One evening, inebriated and wretched, hating his life and the depths to which he’d sunk, he’d shared a bottle with the Frenchmen, and they’d shared an idea—rotating voyages with a split share. At the time, it had sounded like a reasonable plan and one that would lessen his risk.
Now it was his most lamented decision. Where he made every effort to spare lives and had yet to take one that wasn’t actively trying to take his, Pierre and Dominique killed and tortured just for their amusement.
“Word has it we’re divvying up an amazing booty,” Dominique drawled in his unctuous voice. To the ignorant eye, he appeared to be the more civilized of the twins. Sebastian, however, knew him to be the more vicious. “I saw part of the spoils crossing the wharf to you this afternoon—a prime article. The curtsy was a nice touch. You’ve broken her well, Phoenix, although I personally prefer a bit of spirit in my lovers.”
Sebastian’s insides coiled with repressed violence, and his hand slid to the blade strapped to his thigh. The thought of these men within viewing distance of his wife made him physically ill. He’d known this confrontation would be difficult, but he’d failed to consider the danger to Olivia, assuming her to be far removed from the devil’s bargain he’d made long ago. “There has been a change of plan,” he said. “I’ll be paying your share in coin.”
Pierre leapt to his feet, his chair crashing to the floor. “Bastard!” He shot a furious glance at his brother. “I told you he couldn’t be trusted!”
“Calm down,” Dominique growled. “I’ll see that you receive your fair share.”
“Like hell!” Pierre retorted, his voice lowering, but his rage no less evident. “I’ll claim my fair share now. I’ve heard the tales of the cargo in that fat-bellied merchant—fine French laces and brandy, Oriental vases and plates, rich materials, exotic spices, and chests of gold. We’ve not had a catch of such magnitude in the last year, and it may be just as long before another like her comes along.” The Frenchman turned a feral grin toward Sebastian. “If you refuse to share the wealth, my Judas friend, I may be required to come and get it myself.”
“I should like to see you try,” Sebastian scoffed. “I’ll burn the ship and its cargo before that happens.”
Dominique placed a restraining hand on his brother’s shoulder and eyed Sebastian speculatively. “You’re breaking the code, Phoenix. Slitting your own throat, I’d say. Is that what you want?”
Sebastian laughed. “You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, Robidoux.” He tossed two hefty purses onto the table. “Take your guineas and be happy. You should be grateful. I’ve saved you the trouble of disposing of the items.”
Pierre snatched up his purse and hefted the weight in his hand. The gleam in his eyes betrayed his pleasure at the sum, but it wasn’t enough. “I want the woman too.”
“No!” Sebastian said, far too quickly. He took a rapid, deep breath, damning himself for revealing an interest he should have kept hidden.
Dominique’s eyes narrowed as he collected his purse. “Give him the woman, Phoenix, and we’ll call it even.”
“She’s not available to you, gentlemen.” He took a step back, suddenly anxious to be with Olivia.
“She has a maid,” Dominique drawled, his brittle gaze brightening with malice. “And her garments are costly. A devilish good piece that one. I’d wager she’s worth something to someone. Beauty like that is expensive, wouldn’t you say, Pierre?”
“Yes, certainly,” Pierre agreed. “A small fortune for that bit of fluff.”
Sebastian paused. “Leave the woman out of this. You have your shares. Our transaction is completed.”
“But I feel as if I’ve pulled the short stick,” Pierre whined. Then he smiled. “I’ll pay you for her, Phoenix.” He opened the purse Sebastian had just given him. “How much?”
“She’s not for sale,” he bit out, his forehead beading with sweat. The situation was rapidly slipping from his control.
The barmaid came by, setting two overflowing mugs on the table.
“Celia,” Dominique purred. “Your sister works at the inn, non?”
“Hmmm. What tidbits did she share about the guests? More specifically, what did she say about the wom—”
Sebastian drew his knife and stabbed it into the table with such fury the wooden surface cracked down the center. “There will be no more discussion of the woman!” he snarled. “Forget you saw her, forget you heard of her, forget she exists.” He grabbed the startled Pierre by the back of the neck and slammed his face into the table. The Frenchman stared wide-eyed at the knife, which was only a hair’s breadth away from the tip of his nose. Sebastian bent over him. “Have I made myself clearer this time, Robidoux?”
“O-of course!” Pierre gasped.
Sebastian shoved him to the floor with a grunt and yanked his blade from the ruined table. “I’ve finished here.”
He backed out of the tavern, his heart racing. Turning, he ran to the Seawitch. The alert was given as he hit the gangplank, and the crew leapt into action. They cast off, catching the faint evening breeze and moving with torturous sluggishness from the quay.
He didn’t relax until the island was a mere dark shape in the vast ocean. It wasn’t finished, he knew. The Robidoux brothers would make trouble, for when Pierre was upset he would not cease his harping until Dominique took action. And Dominique Robidoux was a man to be reckoned with.
Sebastian made his way to Olivia’s cabin and undressed silently. He slipped between the silk sheets and curled around her sleeping back. At the first touch of her skin, he became erect and fully aroused, aching for the comfort of her body. He lifted her leg over his hip and she roused, but made no protest. He dipped his hand between her legs, feeling his thick cream coating her sex and inner thighs. Like the beast he was, he found deep satisfaction in the primitive claim.
“Do you wish—” she whispered.
“No.” He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent. “Yes. But you’re sore. I can wait.”
