Under Her Brass Corset

by Brenda Williamson

  When she thought she’d not be able to take another second of his heavy body colliding with hers against the hard deck, he slowed his moves. He rolled to his back so she could sit astride him.

  He pulled her down. The shock of her sensitive nipples brushing his chest made her jump slightly. The rocking motion provoked a groan from Jasper. She leaned over farther and kissed him. He grasped the back of her head and kissed her back, hard. His other hand slapped her bottom. She jolted forward. Immediately she scooted back, afraid she’d lose the fullness of his cock buried inside her. He smacked her ass again, and soon they fell into a rhythm where his spanks stirred another orgasm from her.

  “Move off,” he suddenly groaned.

  “Not yet.” The oncoming spasm of her vaginal muscles kept her rocking.

  “I can’t hold back.” Jasper grasped her waist.

  She understood his wish to not impregnate her, but she knew her menstrual cycle. This wasn’t her fertile time. She pulled his hands from around her and pushed them over his head. The coil of rope lying on the deck became her target. She drew his hands against the hemp and tangled the lines around his wrists. He tugged slightly. She knew he could get free with some effort.

  Her position on him, hands against his chest and hips rolling, forced his attention on the feelings she stirred between them both. She bounced on his cock, stimulating his stiff erection with the friction of her rapid strokes along the shaft.

  “Abigail, stop,” he demanded. “By the gods, you’re going to—make—me—”

  His sentence was interrupted with a shuddering roar of angst and elation. She fell forward on his heaving chest and kissed along his jaw and beneath his chin. Then she felt him freeing his hands from the ropes. His arms went around her as he buried his face into her hair and neck, and nearly squeezed the life out of her. He carefully rolled her so they lay on their sides. Their mouths came together, kissing in that rushed fashion that had no accuracy, their mouths never hitting center. He grasped her bottom, pulling her tight as he jerked his hips against her. Rolled to her back, his cock brushed against a pulse deep inside her, which sent a wave of violent convulsions through her body. She wrapped her legs around his hips and clung to him. He threw his head back, stretching his neck, straining the corded muscles. His mouth dropped open and a deep, guttural moan escaped as his Adam’s apple quivered. She clutched at his arms to prevent him from stopping as the warmth of his discharge filled her.

  He attacked her mouth with a kiss and didn’t let up for a long time. Then he eased back. She let her arms flop to the deck above her head. Her cramped legs felt as if she had pedaled a bicycle for miles.

  The magnificence of their bonding left her speechless, exhausted and panting hard.

  Jasper pulled out of her and a cooling swirl of air entered her heated passage. His fluids spilled from her core and trailed to the deck. She felt the wetness on her backside as he lowered her into the puddle of his juices. Then he dropped forward over her. Propped on his hands, he stared at her, his glazed eyes blank of a distinguishable expression. She reached up and cupped his cheek. His hot, damp skin nestled in her palm for just a second, and then he grabbed her wrist and pushed her arm back over her head.

  “Let’s see how you like being restrained.” His hoarse whisper sent a shiver through her.

  She let him tie her hands with the rope. He made tight knots that she tested. Nervous, excited and wary, she quietly checked her restraints.

  “Aren’t you going to say something?” she asked, hoping to break the tense moment where she saw him as a stranger—a dangerous man capable of doing anything he wanted to her.

  “I won’t hurt you.” He lifted her to sit and then picked her up and sat her on a crate stacked on another.

  His statement, which was intended to be comforting, had the opposite effect. The warnings in her head demanded she ask why he thought he needed to tell her that. His calm manner dared her not to question his plans.

  He pulled her arms up and hitched the rope to a web of others. He grabbed her behind the knees and tugged her to sit on the edge of the crate.

  “Are you afraid?” He rubbed her right breast.

  “No.” She shook her head, reinforcing her false claim.

  “Even though you’re at my mercy?” He pinched her hard nipple with thumb and forefinger.

  “Yes.” Anticipating the tug on her breast again, her breathing quickened, became ragged.

  “Good,” he said, and then he bent over and licked her sensitive nipple.

  His tongue whipped circles around her breast, twirling in toward the hard center and spiraling outward from the aching tip. He pulled away, and she thrust her chest out to stay connected. His devilish grin thrilled her. He cupped her left breast and played with her nipple. The twists and tweaks caused a rippling shudder to run through her.

  She gasped soundlessly when his mouth fastened over her nipple. A million tingling sensations surged through her limbs, making her fingers dig into her palms. Her toes curled.

  “Jasper,” she panted.

  His suckling grew intense on one breast while he kneaded the other. In the hub of her body, muscles constricted. She felt weak, yet so alive. Her skin heated with a blush from the fervor. She squirmed, rocked, felt the wetness of her arousal trickling from her sex.

  He kissed a trail to her neck and lingered. The wet caress of his lips moved higher. His heated breath tickled her ear. He slid his hands down her sides, over her hips and around to her bottom, then hoisted her and kicked the crates away. His cock pressed against her open vagina, then penetrated. Already stimulated by his hot kisses, she dug her heels into the backs of his thighs as he pushed her into the web of ropes.

  He didn’t stop there. He thrust faster, harder, exceedingly aggressive. His pounding hips hit hers with force as he moved in and out of her. He massaged her bottom, squeezing and kneading as he continued bucking into her. She whimpered softly, unable to contain her delight. Suddenly something about the openness of the ship and the light of day threw an intimidating distraction in the way of her complete abandon. She turned her head and searched the shoreline for witnesses to their fornication.

  Somehow Jasper knew her thoughts.

  “No one can see or hear you.” His heavy breath heated her face.

  His statement practically screamed at her to demonstrate an uninhibited side of herself she had always dreamed of living out in reality.

  “Untie me,” she murmured against his cheek.

  To her surprise, he released one of her arms from the binds without much effort. She reached around to his back and raked her nails down to one hard ass cheek. He kissed her and she nipped at his lip. A deep, enchanting chuckle rumbled in his throat. He drew his head back and stared at her as he thrust. She rolled her hand up and down his taut skin, feeling the muscles ripple with his movements.

  “Release my other hand,” she begged, slapping his firm buttock.

  He jerked hard, ramming his stiff cock into her. Then he grasped her by the hair. Something wickedly erotic provoked her to smack his ass again. His hold tightened on her hair. He yanked her head back and attacked her throat with passionate kisses. He caught her pulse and tongued the area, sucking her skin until she felt faint.

  “Jasper.” She hugged him with one arm. He untied her other arm and lowered her down to the deck on her back.

  Her orgasm pulsed in rapid contractions. The restlessness of sensations intensified. Jasper’s grunts grew louder. He slammed against her so that each of his hurried thrusts rocked her against the wood flooring.

  Friction burned her core and her backside. Her nipples felt chafed from the constant brush of his chest. Her legs grew weak from the strain she’d put on harnessing them around Jasper’s body. His rearing withdrawals jolted her up against him. Then the kissing stopped. His mouth froze to hers and a moan hissed slowly from him as the liquid warmness of his seed engulfed her insides for the second time.

  She had never experienced anything as rou
gh and raw. The erotically feral sex left her feeling on edge, as she believed animals in the wild might experience when they coupled. Jasper remained silent, panting hard, his chest expanding and contracting rapidly. A part of her had finally been awakened—that deep and dark place that not even Randolph had managed to touch. From the way Jasper stared, she wondered if he was also as astonished by the scorching encounter.

  His face came closer and his eyes closed. She found herself holding her breath, anticipating, envisioning a repeat performance. The primitive sensual depths of their joining left her trembling with exhilaration. Then his kiss touched her—the tender sweep of his warm lips brushed hers from side to side, then settled in the center. Her uncertainties melted under his gentleness. His exhale joined hers and she pushed herself up to him.

  Silently, with one finger she traced his mouth, his nose, his eyes. She stroked his dampened brow. A glimmer of pure happiness sparkled in his eyes. Her vulnerability vanished. If there was one moment to freeze in time, she wished it could be then.

  Together they rose, moving to their knees. Their mouths never broke apart for more than a second to realign. Instead of getting up, he began to lower her back down, keeping her close as he leaned over her.

  Maybe she couldn’t trust his motives for taking her to find a treasure. Perhaps he was going to rob her of a vast fortune. But none of that mattered when he kissed her as if they’d never stop.

  “Without a doubt, Miss Thatch—” He nuzzled his face next to hers.

  “Yes?” Her heart beat faster, imagining him confessing love.

  “You are a precious wonder.”

  The beautiful sentiment fit the moment. “You’re not so shabby yourself, Captain Blackthorn.”

  “Hold on.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and let him lift her to her feet.

  “Don’t move.” He let her go with urgency and moved away.

  She took a deep breath, confused by his cool tone.

  She watched him gather all their scattered clothing and tuck everything into a large canvas bag. Then he lowered the longboat and dropped the bag over the side of the ship.

  “Ready?” He turned to her.

  She nodded, picked up the bather and went to the rail, expecting to use the platform. Only Jasper took the bather and tossed it to the deck. Then he scooped her up.

  “Jasper!” she cried out in shock as he jumped overboard with her.

  They hit with a big splash. He released her just enough for her to kick her legs to surface. Her hand remained clutched in his. He towed her to the longboat and she held on to its side.

  “Wouldn’t it have been easier to climb down the ladder to get in, or use that platform?” She brushed back her wet hair.

  “It would have, but I thought you might like to freshen up.” The hand he had on her hip slipped to her belly and slowly cupped between her legs.

  She bit the inside of her lip, fighting off the ticklish sensation caused by his initial touch. Then his fingers parted her. He rubbed lightly, arousing her.

  She realized his intent. “Shouldn’t we get to shore?” she asked, determined to keep her emotions in check.

  Disappointment dulled his eyes. He seemed to believe her tone of indifference. She wanted that. She needed to know that she had masked her weakness for him.

  “Hold on to the side of the boat until I get in,” he finally replied.

  She watched him hoist his hard, lean frame up over the side. The sheen of saltwater on his skin glistened in the sunlight. She smiled at the sight of his untanned buttocks, white in comparison to his bronzed back and arms. A giggle rose to the top of her throat. She swallowed it down.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Like a naked god above her, he stood tall and majestic. The defined contours and lines of sinewy muscle muddled her thoughts. His physique was breathtaking, and he had showed vigor and agility in their lovemaking. If not for the water, she knew she’d feel a familiar dampening between her thighs.

  “You’re prettier than any mermaid I’ve ever known.” He leaned over and held his hand out to her.

  She grasped hold, wrapping her fingers around his thumb as his folded around hers. With effortless strength, he brought her up against him.

  “Now you’re going to tell me mermaids exist, I suppose.” She grunted with sarcasm to deflect how charmed she was by his compliment.

  “They do, but I very seldom run into any in these parts. After that octopus we encountered, I can see the downside of them swimming around here.”

  “I suppose you have a story about one of your mermaids to tell me,” she said, dismayed by the return of his lies.

  “None.”

  She pushed away from him and opened the canvas satchel. “You said you’ve known some. You must have one story to prove it.”

  Now she had him right where she wanted him—unprepared.

  Jasper avoided staring at the way Abigail moved, blissfully unaware at how her naked body gave him an erection.

  “You’re just not going to accept anything I say, are you?” He laughed, glancing at her trying to keep her balance in the center of the longboat.

  The image of her sleek wet form was already implanted in his head, so it didn’t matter if he looked or not.

  “I don’t know you.” She pulled his breeches from the satchel and thrust them at him.

  “Me beauty, you know me in ways no woman does.” He rubbed his ass, remembering the feel of her slaps.

  Her gaze flitted down for a second and then back up at him. The color in her cheeks heightened. Raising a brow, she looked him in the eye. He saw her smile before she turned her attention back to the bag.

  “Careful with that…” He grabbed the canvas, worried she’d drop it in the water by the way she swung it around. “Here.” He handed over her clothes.

  “Thank you, but I could have gotten them out on my own.”

  “Just trying to help.” He sat the bag under his seat and worked at putting on his breeches.

  From past experience, he had witnessed how slow women managed to dress when a man waited for them in another room. Abigail showed him just how swift a chemise, bloomers, skirt and blouse could be donned in his presence.

  “You were going to tell me a mermaid story,” she reminded him and sat on the seat at the front of the boat.

  “No. I’m going to row us ashore, and you are going to tell me a story.”

  “Me? I don’t know any stories.” She scraped her fingers through her hair, digging into the wet strands and combing them down against her shoulder. Her blouse dampened. He made out the firm protrusions of her hardened nipples. “A mermaid story, please?” Abigail’s persistence made him think.

  Each encounter he’d ever had with a mermaid wasn’t a fit tale to tell a woman, especially Abigail. Mermaids were every bit as legend had them—seductive wenches that led men to their death. Good thing for him he had his immortality to fall back on when one had gotten the better of him. Abigail would have enjoyed hearing that story except for the fact he’d also have to explain the scorn of a mermaid came after a three-day affair. Then she’d not appreciate the humor of it at all.

  “Mermaids aren’t very interesting. What do you say to hearing all about this island? The tropical breeze, the balmy nights and the magnificent sunrises are quite breathtaking.” He lifted the oars and started rowing.

  “I wish England had this kind of weather.” She closed her eyes and tipped her head back. “I really could get used to this.”

  “It is nice. Of course, we are wet. Wait until you’re dry and have been standing in the heat for hours.”

  “Yes, but what’s to stop us from jumping in the water again?” She lifted her head back up and looked at him with a smile.

  “A good point.” He watched her rake her hair together and pull it back. Several twists and tucks and wraps, and she actually made it stay bunched up off her neck without pins or combs.

  “The island doesn’t look very big. What does y
our friend do for food?”

  “Hungry, aren’t you?”

  She gave him a part shrug and a weak nod.

  “The villagers fish and gather fruit, raise chickens. Something is always in season since the weather changes very little year round. If that’s not enough, Juan has shipments come from one of the bigger islands with beef and pork, and other staples like flour and coffee beans.”

  “He sounds like an organized man. I can’t imagine the two of you as friends.”

  “Oh, why is that?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” She kicked at the clutter of canvas, ropes and other items he left in the boat. “And besides this stuff, you have very empty cupboards in your galley.”

  Jasper didn’t answer. Abigail seemed in a better mood since leaving the ship and he’d not spoil it by mentioning that his immortality afforded him a great deal of leeway in not having to eat. She’d not accept the truth of the answer.

  “Should I get out too?” she asked when he hopped into the surf.

  “Not until I secure the boat.” He shoved the long vessel onto the beach and tied it off to a large driftwood log strong enough to keep the boat from floating away.

  By the time he had finished, Abigail had left the boat and waded to shore. Like a wick, her skirt soaked up water a foot higher than the depth she stood in.

  “Maybe I should have left off my clothing until getting to shore.” She looked around him. “So where is everyone?”

  “The other side of the island. Storms on the west side are far less severe. I’ve been here during a hurricane and I can attest to how destructive the winds and waves can be.”

  “Why, then, does anyone stay?”

  “Habit, familiarity, history with a place. They don’t know that elsewhere could be different or have its own set of downfalls. You like this weather. If this was all you knew, what would you think of England’s climate?”

  “England has lovely weather…some of the time.”

  “Then you have your answer. Sometimes you don’t agree with the weather there, yet you never moved away.”

  Abigail hitched her hands on her hips and gave him a perturbed look of annoyance. “Do you always have to have a logical answer to everything?”