by Anthology
Bree was trying to persuade Marcus to let her take charge of the rigging when a cry rang out from above.
“Pirates! Off the port bow!”
Instinctively, Bree pulled up her skirts and made to climb the rigging when an arm came about her waist.
A sailor dragged her below decks and pushed her into the nearest cabin. “Stay in there, miss. Captain’s orders.”
The door slammed shut, and she heard him dash away. “The hell I will.” Bree spied a chest and helped herself to a shirt and breeches, discarding the hated gown. A length of rope served as a makeshift belt. Keeping her boots was one of the few concessions she’d nagged out of Marcus. Snatching a cutlass from where it hung on the wall, Brianna charged back up to the deck.
The sight of the ship nearing the port bow sent chills up her spine. A three-masted, black pirate ship with blood-red trim and a silver flag was gaining on the Maya. It was the Ghost. A cannonball ripped through the air and crashed into the water. A warning shot. If they didn’t surrender, the next would hit the Maya.
Looking around, Bree saw the foresail was unmanned. One corner had come undone and flapped uselessly. She dashed over to the ratlines and nimbly climbed to the crossbar. Her muscles screamed as she secured the rigging. Bree prayed for a wind that would allow the Maya to escape, but it was no use. They couldn’t outrun the Ghost, and their cannons weren’t powerful enough to span the distance. Soon enough her fears were proven true. They’d been maneuvered into a cay with no way to escape. Time to surrender or die.
Marcus looked as if he’d aged a decade in the past hour. His voice quavered as he gave the orders every sailor dreaded. “Lower the flag. Put down your weapons. Prepare to be boarded.”
The sailor to Bree’s left threw down his knife in disgust. He looked at Bree. “They say, if you see the Ghost, you’re about to become one. You should ask the captain to slit your throat. They’re not letting you go, no matter what they do to the lot of us.”
“I’d rather die defending the ship than be a coward,” she spat. She held her cutlass ready, refusing to drop it. Brianna wasn’t about to submit to a pirate any more than she was willing to submit to the owner of a sugar plantation. Her choice, not someone else’s.
Even so, she shuddered at the sound of the pirate longboat bump the Maya. The boarding ladder scraped the hull as pirates climbed. All too soon men were swarming the ship. Their leader was tall, with the kind of tanned skin that spoke of a life at sea, and the muscles of a man unafraid to work alongside his crew. Bree was surprised to see his face was clean-shaven—an odd affectation—and cursed herself for noticing his full, sensual lips.
The pirate captain marched up the line of the Maya’s sailors, coldly assessing each man. Other pirates walked behind him, gathering weapons and yelling orders at the forfeited crew. Marcus was surrounded and forced below decks.
Seeing the pirate stride closer made Brianna clutch her cutlass. No man here might have the balls to attack the pirates, but she did.
His glance cut to her sword. “Put it down, lad. Don’t think to try me.”
Defiantly, she stepped out of line and faced him.
He raised an eyebrow at the gentle curve of her breasts beneath her shirt.
His distraction presented the perfect opportunity. She lunged. Bree grinned fiercely as she scored first blood, a slice across his side, but her victory was short-lived.
With quick moves, he parried, hooked her weapon with his, and tossed it away, disarming her. In the space between one heartbeat and the next, she found herself face down on the deck with the pirate captain’s boot planted firmly on her back. Humiliation heated her cheeks.
This would never have happened if Papa hadn’t sent me away. Fighting had been yet another useful skill she’d abandoned in favor of nonsense like bossing around servants. Maids were bigger crybabies than seasick boys on their first sail.
“This girl has more courage than the rest of you scum put together. At least she tried to kill me,” he said derisively.
The boot was removed, and the pirate captain hauled her to her feet.
She immediately cocked a fist.
“Quite the spitfire, aren’t you?” The captain ducked her swing and grabbed her waist. The world spun as he lifted her in the air and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of flour.
Her blood boiled. “Go to hell!” She beat at his back as he carried her to the quarterdeck. Abruptly, he bent and set her on her feet with her back to the railing.
The pirate imprisoned her hands in one of his own. “I have a proposition, minx. You’ve given me more amusement in the past five minutes than I’ve had in a long time. Amuse me tonight, and I won’t kill your crewmates. Perhaps, you’ll even please me so well I’ll let you keep your ship.”
The roar in her ears wasn’t the ocean. “What?”
His bright blue eyes glittered with amusement. “Don’t disappoint me now. Is the idea of my bed so repulsive that you’d rather lose your ship?”
Her heart hammering, Bree swallowed and lifted her chin. “How do I know you’ll honor the bargain?” My body is to be a bargaining chip, no matter what. Better to use it for the Maya than submit to whomever Papa chose.
He gave her a feral smile. “You don’t.”
She was insulted to feel her nipples sharpen in response. “Do I have your word none of the crew is to be harmed until tomorrow morning?” Maybe the landlubber won’t want a bride who’s already been tumbled…
“That depends on the persuasion of your lips right now. Kiss me.” He released her hands and straightened, waiting.
Her skin was alive with the kind of anticipation she experienced in those moments before a squall blew in. My choice. Heat kindled between her legs. Brianna took a fistful of the pirate’s shirt. She yanked to bring his mouth to hers and bit his lower lip before lightly sucking on it. His arms banded about her, and their lips fused. His tongue plundered her mouth, and she matched every thrust and parry.
When they broke for air, he chuckled. “Direct hit. Very well, decisions can wait until the morning.” Clasping her hand, he led her to his men. “Take her back to the ship and stow her in my cabin. No one touches her but me.”
One kiss, and he’s robbed me of my sea legs. Bree was silent as she was rowed back to the Ghost and led to his cabin.
One of his men pointed at the bed. “Wait there.” The pirate leaned against the captain’s desk.
His action was clear—he was not leaving her alone. She considered engaging the pirate in conversation, but the way he was playing with a knife kept her meek. Desire ebbed, and fear rose the longer she waited.
When the pirate captain finally opened the door, she felt a mix of relief and fear. He jerked his head, and her jailer left. He locked his cutlass and knives into a trunk and smirked at Brianna’s obvious disappointment. She watched as he shrugged out of his coat, tossing it onto his table. He tugged a tie from his hair. Black curls fell about his shoulders. She clenched her fists, resisting the urge to touch them.
The pirate looked her over stem-to-stern before he spoke. “Your father owns the Maya.”
“What of it?” She jutted her chin.
“You’re unmarried.”
“So?”
He closed the distance between them and traced a path from her collarbone to the dirty rope holding up her breeches. “Virgin?”
Narrowing her gaze, she swallowed. He had the rope in his hands. Every horrible lecture she’d received about wifely duties and being brave in the face of a manhood flooded her mind.
She pushed them aside, remembering the feel of his mouth upon hers. Lifting her chin, she responded, “Not after tonight.”
He laughed. “What am I to call you, minx?”
“Brianna. Bree. And you? What shall I call you? Blackguard? Criminal?”
He answered her with a kiss. A seductive kiss. His mouth was surprisingly gentle, and her lips opened for him. Unable to resist, she slid her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
His hands stroked down her back, cupping her bottom. An eddy of heat formed in Brianna’s lower stomach.
“William,” he murmured. He nuzzled her neck, and a shiver ran down her back. “My name is William.”
Bree began to melt like the wax beneath a flame. No! You’re not a simpering schoolgirl. She shoved him away. “What game is this? You proposition me, hold me hostage in your quarters, and then kiss me like a love-struck cabin boy?”
Despite her resistance, he tightened his embrace. His voice rumbled against her skin as he nibbled his way up her neck. “Any wench can open her legs and ignore a man pumping above her. That’s a hollow victory. I want your complete surrender. When I take you, you’ll know who it is inside you.” He whispered in her ear, “You’ll want me there.”
At his words, an unfamiliar current formed within her, and she shivered. Her tongue darted out to trace over suddenly dry lips. She tasted the familiar tang of sea air, ocean spray, and him.
“A few kisses and you think it’s clear skies ahead?” Her retort lacked heat.
William reached out and cupped a breast. His thumb brushed a mutinous nipple thrusting against the cotton of her stolen shirt. Brianna gasped as his finger moved back and forth, teasing it. Her other nipple ached, craving the same treatment.
His narrowed gaze studied her expression. “Is there something you want?”
Brianna clenched her jaw and shook her head.
His thumb and forefinger squeezed and lightly tugged at the nipple. The ache in her other breast became an insistent throbbing. Who knew you could do so much by not doing something? “Fine!” she spat as her fingers tightened into her palms. “Touch the other breast, just like that.”
“Now, was it so hard to admit you want more?”
Her hand itched to slap that arrogant look off his face. She weighed the momentary satisfaction the action would give her against the effect his hands were now having on both her breasts and found it wanting. “I hate you.”
He laughed. “Of course you do.” His mouth possessed hers as he tugged her shirt free from her breeches.
Bree greedily kissed him back, hands fisting in his shirt to keep from mimicking his movements. What would his skin feel like? Taste like? When his hands slid under her shirt to touch her breasts without any barrier, she moaned.
“What do you want me to do, Bree? Send you back to your ship? Or will you ask me to remove your shirt? Your breeches?”
“I’m perfectly capable of removing my own shirt—and yours—if I wanted to.” She meant the words to be tart, but a tremble underscored them.
William’s fingers pinched her nipples. A flash of pain caused her to gasp, but was quickly followed by a rush of wanton pleasure. A sensation, like the heady swell of a wave, broke between her thighs. As desire won, she cursed and yanked off her shirt. She raised her chin, daring him to laugh.
Had his eyes always been that shade of dark Caribbean blue? Or were they like the ocean, always shifting depending on his mood? Did William look at every woman the way he now looked at her?
“You’re beautiful.”
The simplicity of the words undid Brianna. She pulled William’s shirt free and upwards over his head. She’d seen many shirtless men over her years at sea, but he was the first that she was free to touch as she liked. Two dark nipples peeked out from the hair of his chest. A trail led to, and then disappeared into, his breeches. She felt some small satisfaction at the sight of the scratch on his side from where her cutlass had nicked his skin.
What do I do now?
She had enjoyed his touch on her nipples. Would a similar caress feel equally pleasurable for him? Nervously, she reached out and touched one. Hearing William groan at her touch gave Bree a swell of confidence. She had the wicked impulse to use her tongue instead, so leaning forward, she flicked his nipple with the tip of her tongue. He swore. Bree was invigorated by his reactions as she licked and suckled the sensitive skin. Her hands roamed the hard planes of his chest, enjoying the feel of his warm skin and wiry hair.
This would be far more comfortable if they weren’t standing. Bree looked up at William. “The bed?”
“Yes, there is a bed. Very good. What would you like to do on it? Recite a sonnet?” He was a bit breathless.
Apparently, he wasn’t giving her any quarter. She arched a brow. “At school, they didn’t mention sonnets. Mrs. Lingstrom said something about closing your eyes and thinking of your duty.” Teasing, she glanced from beneath the fringe of her lashes. “Would you like me to close my eyes and think of my ship while declaiming a specific sonnet?”
William picked her up and tossed her onto his bed. “I wonder what perversion causes me to find you more enticing with each insult you lob my way.” He paused to remove her boots and then his own.
When William leaned over Bree, she pulled him down to her. The feel of his skin against hers was more intoxicating than grog. Her legs parted and his clothed thigh pressed against her center. The insistent pressure of his rod sent another wave of desire through her body.
William’s mouth was everywhere. He possessed her lips. He nibbled and nipped at her neck. He feasted at her breasts. He pressed kisses against her arms, her stomach, and her face.
“Parlay, William,” she gasped. “My breeches. Remove them. Touch me.”
“No truce,” he growled. “Make your choice. Are you mine?”
Brianna reached down and grasped him through the rough material of his breeches. “Why not say you’re mine instead?”
“My ship, my woman.” His gaze fierce and thrilling, he cupped her mound. “Wave the white flag, just for tonight.”
My choice.
Brianna’s hips moved. She needed his touch. “Remove my breeches and convince me to do so.”
Within seconds, the rope was undone and the breeches flew across the room. He kissed her belly, moving slowly downward. As if they’d lain together a thousand times, her legs parted for him. He settled between her thighs.
“What are you—” The question became a moan as his tongue found her.
What began as an eddy had become a whirlpool. Desire spiraled out of control. She knew the only way out of a whirlpool was to oppose the pull and steer free. Only a fool stopped fighting the wheel. In that moment, Bree knew this man was capable of making her such a fool. “I surrender.”
“Again!” He barked the order and dove back between her thighs, tongue sending her into a frenzy.
“I surrender! Oh God, I surrender! Just don’t stop, William!”
Every inch of her body felt the pull of a powerful current moving to the spot his tongue worshipped. Bree took hold of his curls to tug him closer still as her hips bucked beneath his magical tongue. Everything was spinning faster and faster as she was pulled down into the vortex. Something broke free within her, and screaming his name, she let the maelstrom have her.
Breathing heavily, Bree felt the churning waters from which the whirlpool had sprung begin to calm. The ceiling of his cabin has more stars than the night sky. Or maybe I’m just seeing things.
It might have been seconds, minutes, or hours later, when she felt his weight settle above her. His breeches were gone. He was gloriously naked.
“Tell me again.”
His eyes did change with his mood. Despite everything, she could see uncertainty there. Warmth spread inside her chest. “I surrender. My choice.”
William reached down and stroked her. Bree’s hips rocked against him as she felt a new storm brewing.
“Now, now, now,” she chanted, unsure what she was asking for.
William’s cock nudged where she was flooded with need. “Say you’re mine, Bree.”
“I’m yours, William.”
Adrift in pleasure, she felt him enter her. She had been lied to. No pain bloomed as her maidenhead broke. Once he was fully within her, there was a sense of completeness, as if she’d placed the last piece of a puzzle.
William began to move. Brianna’s hips found the rhythm and lifted to ma
tch him thrust for thrust. Her legs wrapped around his waist, greedy to pull him deeper, to keep him there. Their kisses grew more urgent as his thrusts sped. They were so absorbed in one another the ship could have capsized, and neither would have noticed.
William’s body stiffened, and he growled her name as he came. Moments later, he settled on the bed next to her.
She was pleased his eyes were still a bit unfocused with pleasure. He was reaching for a blanket to pull over them both when she stopped him. “What are you doing?”
“Darling, clearly it’s your nature to argue over everything, but it’s a blanket. It’s warm. You sleep under it.”
“I didn’t say I was ready to sleep.” Bree plucked the blanket from his hand and tossed it to the floor. “I’ve yet to fully explore your territory.”
A chuckle escaped. “I suppose I can close my eyes and think of my duty to cartography.”
Bree’s hand had been trailing through his chest hair. At his comment, she grabbed a fistful and tugged.
“Vicious little vixen.”
“Damned pirate. Turn over.”
“Aye aye, wench.”
All mine.
Her hands roamed his body. William tensed at her touch on his left shoulder. Her touch gentled and massaged the knot there. When he was again quiet, she pressed a kiss to the spot and continued her journey. Freckles were scattered over his back, and she made note of their constellation. He was ticklish behind his right knee. With her fingertips, she traced the corded muscles of his calves.
“Where did you get this?” An odd scar marred the perfection of his buttocks.
“Slight disagreement with a shark.”
She dug her nails into the cheek.
William sighed deeply. “Slight disagreement with a fishing hook. Rum was involved.”
Bree laughed with delight. “Turn over, and let me see what other wounds have been inflicted upon your body. I wish to catalog them all.”
He turned onto his back. “What of the wound you gave me, minx?”
