Bad Boys Ahoy!

by Sylvia Day

  "Aren't you curious to see the part of me that you so recently pleasured?" he asked.

  She blushed. Keeping her eyes averted, Olivia moved to her trunks, holding the ruined gown against her swollen nipples. She was a ravishing vision, and his body was already eager for a repeat performance. Sebastian scrunched down in the too-small tub and concentrated on the chilly temperature of the water to cool his blood. It was a testament of paternal love that fresh water was set aside for this purpose.

  He frowned when she pressed a bar of fine, French-milled soap into his hand. Scented of musk and bergamot, it was definitely a masculine toilet item.

  "Why do you have a man's soap?" he asked sharply.

  Damnation. He was jealous!

  Some of the afterglow faded from her eyes. "'Tis my father's favorite. One more or less will not be missed." She turned away, but not before he caught the hurt evident on her delicate features.

  Sebastian almost apologized, and then reconsidered. It was best if Olivia did not come to care for him, a circumstance made more likely by the intense passion they'd just shared. Distance had to be created between them-for both their sakes. Apparently, he had a fondness for this woman-his wife-that was too threatening to even consider.

  Rushing the rest of his bath, Sebastian dressed in silence, eager to flee the intense feelings Olivia engendered. On his way out, he paused in the doorway. "A few of the crewmen will be down shortly to dump the tub water. I'll order more to be heated for you. For God's sake, don't shoot anyone. It will take some time…"

  "I understand. Thank you." She remained intensely focused on straightening the already orderly contents of her trunk.

  He stared at her stiffened spine and couldn't hold back the feelings that twisted and writhed inside him. He clenched his jaw, forcibly withholding the reassurances she obviously wanted, and deserved, to hear. Only minutes ago they'd shared a blinding closeness, and now they were no more than awkward strangers. Instead of bringing ease from his restless agitation, the gulf between them ripped him deeply.

  Miserable, he left without a word, the door shutting behind him with an unmistakable click of finality.

  Olivia woke to the feel of a steady breeze. From the rolling view outside the windows, she knew they'd raised sail. She looked around the room and found herself alone. Phoenix had not returned the evening before, nor, it appeared, after she'd retired for the night.

  There was a knock at the door, and her heart leapt as she rushed to answer it, eager to see Phoenix again. Instead it was Maggie who stood there. The abigail entered with a bright smile, unaware of her mistress's disappointment.

  Olivia tried to hold her tongue, but her curiosity won out. "Have you seen Captain Phoenix about today?"

  "Aye," Maggie said with a cheerful lilt. "Early this morning, before he went with the Seawitch. We're on our way, milady. The crew said we should put into port in Barbados within a few days."

  The Seawitch. Olivia's heart plummeted into her stomach. Phoenix had moved to her father's ship to get away from her, that was painfully obvious. Her face heated with embarrassment. He most likely thought her the worst sort of wanton. And hadn't she been?

  Wretched, she shook her head. She'd been mindless with desire, but the pirate certainly had not felt the same. He'd had the presence of mind to keep her maidenhead intact, a circumstance that said clearly he did not desire to take her as his wife. He would escort her to England, obtain his annulment, and sail off without looking back. She, on the other hand, would spend her days pining for the husband she hadn't wanted, only to discover he was all she wanted.

  Olivia spent the three days it took to reach Barbados ensconced in Phoenix's cabin. Bored and crying miserably every time she remembered her abandoned behavior, she resorted to snooping to distract herself. Rifling through his drawers, desk, and cupboards, she found ribbon-bound letters from the Marquess of Dunsmore addressed to Sebastian Blake. She found legal documents that bore his seal and wanted posters displaying his alias. She'd strongly suspected, of course, or she would never have given her favors so freely. But by the end of the three days, she had no doubt.

  She was married to a pirate. The thought thrilled her.

  Now she needed to discover a way to keep him.

  Chapter Three

  Sebastian waited for Olivia at the bottom of the gangplank with deplorable impatience. He hadn't seen her in a sennight, and that was a sennight too long in his estimation. Before moving to the Seawitch, he'd ordered Will to secure lodgings for her at the local inn when they docked, certain she would relish the opportunity to sleep in a bed after spending three nights in his hammock. She had probably been exhausted. He knew he was. Her cabin on the Seawitch had been hell on earth, a decadent room showcasing a massive, velvet-draped four-poster bed.

  The nights had been torturous, the silk sheets infused with her scent, a lingering redolence that burned through his blood. He'd dreamed of her naked and spread beneath him, his aching cock thrust deep inside her body, a ripe nipple trapped between his tongue and the roof of his mouth.

  The overwhelming need to fuck had forced him into town to find a lusty wench. He'd found several, fondled a few, kissed a couple, and left them all. Not even the most skilled whore could kiss like Olivia, who kissed him as if she would die if she couldn't have him.

  He was quite simply mad for her, thoroughly besotted.

  Sebastian rolled his shoulders, attempting to ease the tension there. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked toward the inn, immediately grateful for the cane he affected. It supported his buckling knees when his wife came into view.

  The entire town seemed to freeze, the bustling noises fading into obscurity until only the cry of seagulls remained. The crowd parted, revealing Olivia's golden beauty as she strolled toward him. Her rich tresses were piled atop her head-careless, artless curls tumbling in studious disarray. Her taupe-colored gown was of the finest silk, shimmering in the island sun like light on rippling water. It showcased her full breasts, tiny waist, and creamy skin to perfection. She wore a broad, feathered hat at a jaunty angle that shielded most of her face from his view, but revealed the full red mouth that had ruined him for any other. He was speechless, breathless, agonizingly aroused at the mere sight of her. Olivia was a diamond of the first water. And for the moment, she was his diamond.

  For the first time in his life, Sebastian was grateful to his father.

  During the last several sleepless nights, unable to keep her from his thoughts, he'd contemplated their present circumstances. Olivia wanted to maintain their marriage, if he could prove his identity. He collected that the benefits of such a union would be numerous for both of them. She deserved better than him, of course. He'd tried to tell her. If she insisted on having him, what fool would he be to cast her aside? He was not a foolish man. Reckless and selfish perhaps, but certainly not foolish.

  The vision that was his wife stopped before him, and to his amazement, she dropped into a curtsy so low her forehead would have touched the dirt if not for the brim of her hat. Sebastian scowled. What in hell was she doing?

  "My lord," she murmured in deference.

  The town immediately resumed its frenzied activity.

  Reaching down, he yanked Olivia to her feet. She shielded her eyes from him with her hat, a meek gesture that was not in keeping with her fiery nature. He wanted, with a soul-deep need, to see her lovely eyes and look upon her beautiful face. Annoyed with her behavior, Sebastian spoke harshly. "What is the matter with you?"

  It wasn't possible, and yet her head dropped even lower, until all he could see was the top of her blasted hat.

  "I apologize if I have displeased you again, my lord. I meant no offense."

  Again? What the devil was she talking about?

  Sebastian gripped her elbow and dragged her up the gangplank, not stopping until they reached her cabin, where he thrust her in first and slammed the door shut behind them. Frustrated by her hat, he removed the offending article and tossed it asi
de. Her lovely visage was revealed to him, as well as her tears. Immediately, he felt contrite. He was a cad.

  "What ails you?" he queried, drawing her into his embrace. Olivia stood stiffly for a heartbeat before melting into him.

  "You're angry with me."

  "No," he denied, his hands stroking the curve of her spine. "I'm confused."

  She buried her face in his chest and sobbed. "You think I'm a wanton."

  His confusion remained, but his mouth curved against her hair. "Perhaps a little."

  She sobbed louder.

  "But I like it," he amended hastily.

  "You don't!" she argued in a muffled voice. "You left me so I wouldn't throw myself at you again. And I won't. Never again, I vow."

  Ah! Sebastian grinned like an idiot.

  He kept his voice low and soothing. "I'd have ravished you further, Olivia, if the ocean hadn't been between us. You were distraught. Your ship was attacked, you were abused, and your husband was revealed to be a criminal. It would have been dishonorable of me to take your body under those conditions. Bad enough I took the liberties I did."

  She struggled away from him, her eyes flashing dangerously.

  "You are not an honorable man! You said so yourself. You refused to marry a woman you compromised, and yet the woman to whom you are married is left a virgin." She stomped a slippered foot. "I am not a fool! Admit the truth."

  "The truth?" He arched a brow. "As you wish, sweeting. The truth is, I want you desperately. I want to take your lush body, spread it beneath me, and ride you until you can't move. I want to breech your precious maidenhead and ruin you for any other man. I want to hear you moan my name while you come around my cock. I want to fill you with my seed over and over again, until you think of nothing but me and how well I can pleasure you."

  Eyes wide, her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip. "Good heavens."

  "Heaven," he purred. "Yes, I suspect it will be."

  "It is your right to… to do those things… if you truly want to. I am your wife."

  Sebastian crossed his arms. "Certain of that, are you?" He bit back a smile. He'd hoped she'd be curious.

  Her chin lifted. "Yes, I am certain of it."

  "You went through my things."

  She nodded.

  "And what do you think of this development?"

  Olivia clasped her hands, dislodging her lush breasts until they threatened to escape her low bodice. His mouth went dry as the desert, lust and appreciation flaring hot and heavy in his loins. Perhaps when his ardor faded, he would regret claiming his bride, but he couldn't think of that now. He couldn't think at all.

  "I think 'tis a good thing you like my wantonness, because I am about to become decidedly more wanton." She took a deep breath. "I want you to seduce me now. Make me your wife in truth, so when we return to England you won't cast me aside."

  His heart stopped beating. Or rather it dropped between his legs and throbbed violently. "Why?" he asked, wanting her to admit that she wanted him badly enough to compromise herself. "Are you that determined to please your father? By all accounts you are his pride and joy. You can do no wrong in his eyes."

  "I have never done wrong!" she snapped. "In his eyes or otherwise."

  Sebastian held his tongue, startled at her vehemence.

  Her knuckles were white with tension when she spoke. "My mother died giving birth to me. How could I refuse my father anything, when he lost everything that mattered to him forme?"

  "I see."

  It shouldn't matter why Olivia wanted to remain married to him. He hadn't wanted a wife to begin with and had no life to offer one in any case. But his stomach clenched into knots, and cold sweat dotted his brow. "So you follow his every dictate, including marriage to a stranger, to keep him happy."

  Her gaze burned into his. "Yes, I married you because my father asked, but that is no longer the reason I wish to be wed to you. Now I care only for myself and what I wish to have."

  Sebastian stood frozen, aching, feeling the weight of her silken net entrapping him and yet unable to fight the pleasure it gave him. The decision was made without thought, only feeling.

  Olivia offered him everything a man could want-a family, someone to care for him and miss him while he was away, a home to return to, a passionate body to sink into, a beauty to appreciate, and a strength of spirit to admire. For years he'd disparaged such comforts, swearing he needed only his wits and will to survive. He'd never allowed himself to wish for things that were not meant to be his. Then Olivia had come into his life with the promise of happiness he didn't deserve. Selfish and self-centered as he was, Sebastian couldn't refuse.

  "And what do you wish to have?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

  "Oh!" She tossed up her hands and stalked to the window, her spine rigid. "Go away, Merrick. I have embarrassed myself enough for a lifetime."

  Sebastian shrugged out of his coat and waistcoat, and yanked his shirt over his head.

  "Leave, my lord," she said curtly, her back to him.

  "No." He sat on the edge of her bed and pulled off his boots. As the first one hit the floor with a thump, she turned to face him.

  "W-what are you d-doing?" she sputtered.

  "Disrobing," he replied. "Garments are a hindrance to lovemaking." Sebastian dropped the other boot and removed his stockings. He stood up and shucked his breeches, his painfully aroused cock springing free of its confinement.

  Olivia gasped at the sight. "Good grief!"

  His cock was huge. Dear God in heaven. "That-"she pointed with her finger-"will not fit!"

  Along with the butterflies of fear that took flight in her stomach were tendrils of excitement, rich and heady. From her very first sight of the dashing pirate, he'd had that effect on her. Olivia couldn't deny that it was thrilling to know she had a similar effect on him. It seemed her peculiar boldness was not so unappealing to him after all, a realization that filled her with relief.

  His brilliant blue gaze lit with amusement, and his mouth curved, revealing his charming dimple. "Thank you, sweetheart. You've just given me the greatest compliment a woman can bestow upon her man."

  Olivia stilled. Her man. Her husband. Hers.

  She wanted more of him, a lifetime of him. Sebastian Blake-outlaw, pirate, peer-could make all of her fantasies a reality. Whatever doubt she felt melted away.

  He was gorgeous. Fully naked and bared to her view, he was perfection. Rippled with muscle, taut with desire, heavy with arousal-her mouth watered at the sight of him.

  She tore her gaze from his raging erection and looked up into those intense blue eyes. "You will have me then?"

  "With pleasure. Since you are so determined to have me." His gaze softened. "Do not concern yourself with the fit," he soothed. "I'll make you wet and hungry for me, sweet. So dripping and ravenous that my cock will slide deep within you like a hot knife in butter, and you will melt just the same."

  Dampness flooded her thighs. "Your voice is amazing," she murmured. "My brain simply ceases to function when you speak."

  "Olivia-"

  "Release your hair," she interrupted. "I like it better loose."

  Sebastian walked toward her, tugging out his queue as he came. Truly his hair was not nearly as long as hers, but it did reach the bottom of his shoulder blades, and when he walked the inky black silk flowed over his broad shoulders. He looked like a pagan god, tanned to the waist and built for pleasure.

  Her pleasure.

  "I am no marital prize," he warned. "I am not any kind of prize."

  "You are a treasure." Olivia took a hesitant step toward him. "Just the way you are."

  Sebastian held out his hand, and she flew to him, throwing herself into his warm embrace. She gripped the back of his neck and pulled his smiling lips down to hers.

  Warm and sweet, his voluptuary's mouth brushed feather-light across hers. She tried to draw him closer to taste him more fully, but he easily held back, his strength so much greater than hers.

  "We h
ave weeks to travel, love," he reminded her gently. "All the time in the world to compromise me completely. No need to devour me whole."

  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.