Sexual Hunger

by Melissa MacNeal

  “Lady, are ye? Then wot the hell’re ye doin’ here?” With a final effort, the owner of that whiskey voice hoisted himself up to the window casement. He stared at her with eyes that seemed to spin, even from this distance.

  Maria’s hand flitted to her chest, and then to the jeweled butterfly. The vagrant who gaped at her sported no jaunty pirate’s bandanna. His untrimmed hair and dirty shirt weren’t much to go on, either. Yet she studied him, hoping…“Jason?” she demanded. “Jason Darington, of the Wildwood estate near London?”

  A rude chortle escaped him. He leered at her as he tipped a bottle to his lips. “Ye must be drunker’n me, wench, if ye’re believin’ I be anything but the dregs o’ society. But I got a mighty sword pokin’ outta me pants! Wanna see ’im, girlie-o?”

  She fought a snicker. Edged closer, hoping for a better look at his bearded face. “Johnny Conn, then? The pirate what’s got the law cursin’ yer bloody name?”

  His bottle slipped from his hand as he gawked at her. “Who’re you to be sayin’ that?” he demanded in a hoarse voice. “Johnny Conn’s a legend—nothin’ more’n the thin air he comes and goes from.”

  Ah. So she’d struck a sore spot. But she reveled in the thundering of her pulse—in her heart’s recognition of the man camouflaged by the grime and his liquor. “I’s heard Conn has a way with the ladies,” she teased, standing more erect to thrust out her bosom. “But yer not him, obviously. The pirate I’m seekin’ has the reputation of a dandy, not a man who lives with the pigs. Ye’ll not be gettin’ none of my favors, boyo.”

  She pivoted in the sand, nearly tripping over the silk skirt that clung to her legs. Would he fall for the line she’d cast? Would he come out of that shack—or sink back into his bottle? And why was he in such a state? She’d imagined the cocky, flamboyant pirate who’d posed for that WANTED poster, not the has-been who now belched from the window.

  “Stop, or I’ll shoot ye!” he bellowed. “State yer business here!”

  Maria paused, her back to him. Surely Rubio and O’Keefe could hear what he was saying and assess if she were in real danger. But she saw no one in the thicket of trees…no sign of the lifeboat. Nothing on the beach except forked branches of driftwood and gulls searching for food. She turned slowly, hoping the right words came. “I’d hoped to meet the illustrious Johnny Conn,” she replied in a brazen voice, “on account of how me…puss is hungerin’ fer a mighty sword to fill ’er. I could make a man of ye, boyo, but yer not my type. Too nancy by half.”

  “Nancy?” he shot back. He lumbered to the doorway, holding on for support as he squinted at her. “Nancy, ye say? Show me yer tits—if yer woman enough! Make it worth me while, damn it!”

  Now that was the sort of thing Johnny Conn—or Jason—would say! Maria inhaled to control the pounding of her heart. It was too late to back out of this randy cat and mouse. But she had to play for keeps. “Drop yer pistol and I’ll give ye a peek!” she countered. “If there’s a damn bullet hole in one of ’em, they won’t be a matched set fer the next fella! And ye can’t grab me arse if yer holdin’ a gun, now, can ye?”

  He took a hesitant step forward, gawking as though recognition might dawn. His chest heaved with exertion—or was it need?—and as he spat, still studying her, he tossed the pistol aside. “Hell with it,” he muttered. “If the law sent ye to set me up, ye’ll be worth the trouble. Ain’t seen titties like that fer many a blue moon. Jesus, woman!”

  She had him where she wanted him—or at least on his way. Maria shrugged out of the jacket, exaggerating her motions so her loose breasts jiggled at him in their black lace casing. “Like wot ya see?” she taunted as she shook them. “Now—gimme a peek at that sword yer braggin’ on. Matter of fact, git outta all yer clothes, boyo. Yer gonna take a bath afore y’even git yer hands on these two darlin’s.”

  When she grabbed her breasts from either side and squeezed them together, her prey moaned and swore in the same breath. Hastily he peeled away his dirty shirt, and as he dropped his pants, Maria turned away. She swayed across the beach…unfastened her skirt and let it flutter to the sand…flashed her bare bottom and silk-stockinged legs at him as she approached the ocean.

  His ragged breathing accelerated behind her…he gasped as he followed her into the chilly waves. When they were knee deep, Maria untied the camisole’s laces, then gripped the two sides of it—

  “Turn yerself around and stand still, damn it! If I grab ’em, I’m a goner.”

  Maria’s heart flew into her throat. Jason had teased and tormented her that way, playing rough-and-tumble pirate! Were Rubio and Eric O’Keefe still watching? They were about to get an eyeful, but she was beyond caring…even if, when she got a closer look, this man was not Jason.

  And what’ll you do then? If you expose yourself, you can’t apologize for mistaking his identity! You’re in it up to your…hot little puss now.

  Maria turned slowly, and then yanked the two halves of the camisole. Her pursuer’s eyes nearly bugged from their sockets—and yes, his erection swung high and hard between his muscular thighs. She knew that body! Eyes closed or open, daylight or dark, she’d recognize Jason Darington—and here he was! In the flesh! Wanting her so badly his hands curled as though he were kneading the soft breasts he’d always worshipped. It was the answer to her prayers!

  Not that religion was on either of their minds.

  Maria stood stock still while the waves lapped at her knees. Her nipples pointed at him like persistent little fingers as she stood like a wanton, in her black garter belt and lace stockings, with her camisole flapping in the breeze. He gazed hungrily at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his desire. Did he recognize her? Or did he just want to?

  Do you think he really cares? He’s a man! And he’s got a very big itch to scratch.

  It was an alluring itch, too. Thick and randy, his cock gazed at her with its tiny eye. A droplet of juice dripped off its end. “Jason?” Maria breathed. “You and Blackbeard—do you remember me at all?”

  He frowned. Studied her again, now that she’d dropped her coarse, accented speech. “I don’t know what yer talkin’ about, lass, but I wants what I sees. I’ll beg ye fer it, but ye’d better not be teasin’ me or we’ll both be sorry.”

  He shook his head as though to clear it. Still gazing at her breasts and thighs, Jason stepped into the oncoming wave to let it wash over him. He rubbed his face and body all over, both to sober himself and to be clean enough to deserve her. And when the cold water ebbed Jason stood before her, dripping wet and still so erect she had difficulty not grabbing his familiar, magnificent cock.

  “Oh, I’m not teasing,” she rasped. “You might not know me, but I guarantee I could never forget the likes of you, Lord Darington!”

  He backed away warily. “Darington. Man by that name owns a shippin’ company, headquartered in Charleston—”

  “He’s your father! And—and he has recently passed on, Jason,” she blurted. This was not the way she’d planned to restore his memory, but what else could she say? “I’m sorry to inform you this way, but you are now his heir! And your twin brother, Jude—”

  “Ye think I care about such nonsense?” he demanded brusquely. “All I want is to plunge between yer legs and fuck the livin’ daylights outta ye, lass! And then I’ll want to do it again! So why’re we standin’ here like we don’t know what comes next?”

  She stepped toward him. “My name’s Maria—”

  “Is it, now? And ye think I give a flyin’ fig about—”

  He was on her then: threw his arms around her as though she might be a figment of his inebriated imagination, might float away if he didn’t hold her so tightly. Or was he drunk? His lips certainly knew their way around hers. As he ground himself against her, his breath came in short gasps with each intense kiss, until he settled in for a very long one. He tasted of rum and fermented fruit, a heady combination that made her suck his tongue into her mouth and hang on.

  As the surf surged around
them they kissed hard, as though they were opponents rather than lovers. Jason’s erection poked her thigh as he grabbed her ass and rubbed his chest against her breasts. “Let me in,” he muttered. “Damn it, wench, I won’t wait no longer!”

  He trotted her beyond the waves and together they landed on the wet, packed sand. Jason grappled to be on top and Maria opened herself, reveling in the way he took what he wanted without apology or question. “Ride me, then!” she challenged. “You’re the one who claims he can fuck the living daylights out of—oh! Oh God, Jason—Jason!”

  He plunged deep inside her and she spread wider to accommodate him, to glory in the reunion of their bodies and souls. Her hips bucked upward as he straddled her, drilling her with a piston that got hotter and harder with each entry. “I—don’t know—who ye are or how ye think ye know me,” he rasped as he drew closer to climax, “but I’ll not be fergettin’ this fuck anytime soon. Jesus, woman—yer squeezin’ the jizz outta me—”

  On impulse, Maria shoved him up and to one side. It was her turn to mount this wild pirate and hang on until they both collapsed, quivering, in the sand. Her effort caught Jason by surprise—

  And so did the driftwood log.

  She saw what was about to happen but couldn’t stop in time. When his head hit the petrified tree trunk with a sharp thwack, he cried out—yet it only fanned his flames! “Wicked wench! Tryin’ to knock me outta me misery, are ye?” he panted. “I’m gonna shoot you fulla my—”

  “Jason! I can’t wait—can’t stop—” Her hips spasmed crazily, driven by the clenching of her inner muscles. Her back arched as she drove them faster, more frantically, toward sweet release. The first shot of his wetness made her scream and lose all pretense of control.

  Together they rolled and tussled until all their spasms were spent. Maria collapsed on him, aware only of his animal strength—the body she’d longed for—as the waves lapped around their legs. They caught their breath, neither of them letting go.

  Had she done a foolish thing? She’d been in such a mad rush to couple—to control him—she hadn’t noticed the log until it was too late. What if he became totally lost now? Unable to recall anything about his previous privileged life? Maria lay with her face on his chest, inhaling the salty scent of man and sea…praying her adventure hadn’t come to an end before she reclaimed the Jason she loved.

  “Christ,” he muttered. “I’ll have one helluva goose egg, but it’ll be worth it. Maybe you knocked some sense into me.”

  Maria held her breath. His heavy accent had disappeared. But what did that mean, really? She raised up on her arms to study his face, to see if his eyes were rolling, out of focus.

  Jason looked steadily at her. His hand went to her damp, bedraggled hair, and then drifted alongside her face to rest on the butterfly pendant. She longed to remind him where it came from, yet sensed she should let him reason it out.

  “A distinctive piece like this doesn’t belong on a trollop.” He gazed warily at her.

  “I…I was playing along, to see if you remembered me. I’m not a shipwrecked whore, Jason. I’m your fiancée, Maria Palladino.” She longed to pour out more of their story, but the look on his face stopped her.

  He rubbed the sore spot on his head. “What if I have no reason to believe that?”

  NOW what’ll you say? Maria gazed into golden-brown eyes, glad to see they’d stopped spinning. But if he didn’t recall—

  “After all,” he continued quickly, “why would a beautiful woman like you seek out a low roller like me? If you had any idea what I’ve done—”

  “But I do, Jason! When Rubio located your spirit—when we saw the WANTED poster with your picture and got the telegram about the Darington ships you’ve plundered—”

  “Damn. So the law did send you.” Jason’s eyes lost their light. He looked away. “I thought you were a dream come true. A woman who could rescue me with her love, just like in the fairy tale where the princess kissed the frog.”

  Maria’s heart stilled. Her damp hair blew wildly around her face while her wanton black lace clung to her, along with wet sand. She felt like the aftermath of a storm at sea, yet he’d called her beautiful! If Johnny Conn wanted a fairy-tale ending and the princess to go with it, all was not lost—if only she could make him remember who he really was!

  “No, Jason! Your brother Jude and I came after you, to bring you home to England!” she insisted. “Home to Wildwood, because the estate and your father’s title are now yours. You’re an earl! Your name is Jason, Lord Darington!”

  He gently shifted her so he could roll into a sitting position. “Then who the hell is Johnny Conn? And if I’m not Conn, who’s been looting those ships you mentioned?”

  Maria blinked. Somewhere in those questions they’d find the seed to his defense, but for now it meant he was sobering, thinking and talking like a rational man, even if his memory wasn’t intact. She racked her brain for more conversational connections. “Do you have any sense of…missing something—someone—important? Identical twins share a strong bond—”

  “I’m a twin?”

  “Your brother’s name is Jude. He looks exactly like you, but I can distinguish between you, even…even in the dark.” She cleared her throat, wondering how explicit to be about their three-way arrangement. “While you are a leader and an adventurer, Jude creates beautiful photographs and—and he made this butterfly pendant!” she exclaimed, holding it up. “You gave it to me on the day before our wedding, and then you were shanghaied! We believe you hit your head when you fell onto that despicable captain’s ship, probably from a whorehouse on the London waterfront.”

  Jason looked away quickly. He seemed troubled, but as he tried so hard to think, he could only sigh forlornly. “I want to believe you, but…how do I know you’re not leading me down some primrose path? To jail, perhaps, if I really did plunder those ships!”

  “Jude is in jail!” she crowed. “Because the Darington Shipping partners thought he was you!”

  His expression shifted. “So if the coastal authorities think they’ve caught me…you and I could remain on this island together? Forever? And no one would come after us?”

  Maria’s heart rushed into her throat. It wasn’t a good time to mention that Rubio and Chief Officer O’Keefe lurked in a lifeboat nearby. “What a lovely fairy tale that would make,” she agreed in a dreamlike voice. “I would stay here with you forever, Jason. I love you, and I’ve missed you so badly…rolling about in that town house like a dried pea in a shoe box—except for Quentin and Mrs. Booth, of course.” She glanced over to see if her words had any effect, but his bearded face still showed no signs of recognition.

  Jason was studying her, too. His lush lips twitched. His gaze followed the sway of her bare breasts and the flare of hips partly clad in black lace. Maybe there was a better way than words to reach inside him and coax his memory to return.

  “You’re having wicked thoughts. And I like them.”

  She laughed, a burst of mirth that made her breasts shimmy and awoke the needs she’d buried deep inside when this man had been taken from her. What could it hurt to seduce him again? If one coupling had brought him this far out of his drunken stupor…

  27

  Maria rose from the beach to stand before him. She brushed sand from her thighs, slowly, to provoke him as he gawked at the slender black garters that still, miraculously, held up her stockings. Flicking her fingers through the dark curls between her legs, she watched his reaction. “Sand gets in the damndest places—”

  “Let me help.” He reached for her, his eyes shining playfully.

  But she stepped beyond his reach. “Humor me,” she said in a low, insistent voice. She glanced back at the ramshackle house, allowing ideas to roost like homing pigeons. “I want you to take me again, Jason—like the last time you made love to me before you left the town house for your bachelor party.”

  He sighed. “But I don’t remember…I’m sorry. That hurts you, and it’s not my intent.�
�

  Her heart went out to him. He was trying so valiantly; had sobered completely and become a gentleman again, despite his unkempt hair and beard. “You’re not so far off the mark! You blindfolded me and bound my wrists to your bedpost, Jason. And then you leaned me forward—”

  “And ravished you from behind? I can do that again!”

  “—while you talked in the same pirate’s accent you were using moments ago!” Her voice rose with excitement as his body reacted to this suggestion. It was a marvelous sight, that his cock hardened again so soon after he’d pleasured her. “I keep a thick, wicked dildo in my night table—”

  “You have one of those? Naughty girl!”

  “You gave it to me, remember?” Maria watched his eyes, but then continued with her original idea. “Last time you were with me, you and Blackbeard—”

  “How’d he get in the picture?” Jason stood, gazing around the beach and the horizon as though searching for the pirate and his ship. Then he focused on her with a sigh. “Are you sure you’re not making this up? Blackbeard hasn’t haunted this island for centuries.”

  “What could it hurt to return to that love scene with me?” Maria started toward the shack, praying this idea didn’t explode in her face. She reminded herself of her mission: to make him remember who he was, at best, and at the very least to get him aboard the ship for their return to Charleston. “I enjoyed playing your prisoner, Jason,” she hinted. “Perhaps the slapping of our skin…the way you tormented me with that blindfold, and then fastened the butterfly necklace on me afterward. Repeating those actions might knock something loose in your mind.”

  “Sounds better than banging my head on a log,” he agreed. He walked beside her with long, sure strides, eager to carry out her plan.

  “I’m sorry about that, Jason. I got too rough and careless—”

  “Never that!” He flashed her a grin that brought back so many fond memories, she nearly cried for wanting him—wanting the real Jason to emerge again. To love her again. “I prefer a woman who loves to play. None of those prissy princess types for me!”