The Maid and The Cook

by Eris Adderly

  It excited her.

  The deckhand’s eyes raking over their coupled, writhing form, his hand stroking, intent, as the cook had his way … She was catching fire, piece by piece. A squeak of overwhelmed passion slipped out when she tipped her head back against the wall of Bone’s chest.

  “Shh, now,” he warned. At least one of them had enough sense to remember they needed quiet. The male arm she’d been trapping under her neck curled in now, and he laid his first two fingers over her lips in reminder.

  Lovely idea, John.

  Brigit opened her mouth and drew him in, sucking at the fingertips, pulling him deeper with her swirling tongue. She felt his teeth at her shoulder, biting in to stifle his own groans at this blatant imitation of her gift to him in the galley earlier that day.

  Her pussy hummed with envy, as empty as her backside was full, and the rate of his pumping increased. He pulled his fingers from her mouth and caught up her right hand, guiding it down over her stays, and then lower.

  “I’m close, pretty girl,” he rasped at her ear. “Touch yourself. Come with me.”

  The request stunned her, flooded her hungry sex with a wanton heat.

  Yes.

  Her hand burrowed, urgent, finding its way clear beneath her skirts. Bone plunged from behind, unrepentant for his harsh strokes.

  Yes, yes, oh YES.

  Her fingers hit their mark. She found herself beyond soaked, and went straight to work, giving Hawke more of a show now than she’d ever intended.

  She didn’t care.

  Delicate folds and a sensitive little pearl shimmered with flashes of pleasure under the frenzied movements of her own hand, and the cook was solid, driving, relentless behind her.

  Their sinful dance reached a thrumming, fever pitch, and Bone bore down, nearly rolling her onto her stomach with the zeal of his efforts. The added weight against her back and the insistent pumping crushed her busy fingertips right up against her most sensitive flesh, and Brigit seized up, still and tight.

  Her climax crashed into her, an explosion of light and excruciating joy that spun away from her centre in glittering shards of paradise.

  Oh God! Yes! God, John, yes! I love you!

  Her body clutched at him, walls fluttering as she came. Muscles inside her rippled over his cock, demanding surrender, insisting he join her in bliss.

  As she spasmed and jerked her way through her release, Brigit felt him go impossibly hard. He drove into her in a last, feral thrust, his whole body becoming rigid, growling through his teeth before he could stop himself.

  She felt the first pulses, and then the wicked jet of hot seed inside her as he tripped over the edge. He held himself there, thumping exquisitely into her bottom, the warm fluid of his spending now letting her slide on his prick in smooth luxury. Brigit wallowed in the feeling, rolling her hips, hoping to milk him for all he had to give. She wanted all of it, all of him.

  His breath was heavy now as he came down, fingers of his free hand cupping over her shoulder. Her head tilted back for a kiss and they lapped each other up, a glowing thanks for shared ecstasy.

  The cook was still buried as deep as he might go and working to take slower, calmer breaths. Her fingers relaxed and moved from between her legs, grabbing a handful of skirts as she went and pulling them down to cover herself again. His lips were gentle now, moving to her jaw. A hand found hers and he laced their fingers together, bringing his mouth to her knuckles, as well.

  Brigit’s head rolled to the side under the sweetness of his touch and found their audience at an end. Hawke’s back was to them now, and he appeared to be dead asleep. It was anyone’s guess whether he’d found his own release, but that mattered little just now.

  At the peak of her pleasure the words had come ringing out in her mind.

  I love you.

  Did she? Was Brigit O’Creagh in love with this pirate? And if she was, did she dare tell him?

  The thoughts beat at her like gusts of wind, even as the man at her back softened and slid from her body, unaware. There were kisses at her shoulder now, but they were drowsy. The cook was dragging her petticoats back into place, pulling her close, ready to drift into sleep.

  Had she loved anyone before now? She didn’t think so. No man had made her come apart this way. Be this reckless, brazen. She was more at home now, it seemed, than she’d ever been in the tiny house overflowing with parents and siblings.

  Bone gave her a faint squeeze, and murmured into the back of her neck, fading fast.

  “See ye ‘n the morn, pretty girl.”

  The words felt easy and right, and she relaxed into his embrace. Perhaps this was what it felt like.

  Her thoughts disintegrated, tumbling her towards sleep.

  The Devil’s Luck. And maybe now Brigit’s luck, as well.

  I’m in love with a pirate.

  * * * *

  John thumped his way back to the galley from the lower gun deck. Simon Grey had decided that since the cook was in charge of meals, he was therefore also in charge of the mess, and that included the supervision of wrangling a stuck table down from its chains in the ceiling. This apparently required four men and a bucketful of swearing.

  But then again, anything done properly on a ship required swearing.

  He moved across the main deck beneath a sun well past the top of its arc for the day, eager to return to the maid. There were matters on his mind, and he wanted her ear.

  Just see it past Nassau, John. Don’t be hasty.

  “Mr Bone!”

  “Captain,” he said, turning back to the approaching man. Blackburn’s fine coat flapped in the breeze, and John noted some ease to the serious look the man spent most of his time wearing.

  “Have you given your list of supplies to Mr Till yet, Bone?” Blackburn always moved straight to business.

  “Aye, Captain. Did that this morning.” He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight off his peg.

  “And your new mate? Suitable? I’ve heard rumours already, Bone.” The captain cracked a smile at this, a rare event. “Knives? And Osbourne lost a purse?”

  John chuckled at the memory of the navigator’s open mouth at the sight of the three blades. “Ye should have seen it, Captain. We could have dropped an anchor down his gullet. Aye, she’s quite suitable, Sir. And I’m glad for the extra pair of hands.”

  “I’m sure you are, Mr Bone,” Blackburn smirked at him, “I’m sure you are. You’ll be wanting her aboard beyond Nassau, then?”

  Ah, here was the very matter he’d been afraid to address. “I do indeed, Captain, if it can be permitted.”

  “And does she wish to remain?”

  “I suspect she might, Sir.” He had high hopes after the previous night.

  “Then we’ll draw her a contract like everyone else,” he said, “But Bone—you’ll see there’s no trouble made with the other men. Women aboard? Well … we need to keep order, you understand.”

  “Of course, Captain.” Blackburn hadn’t heard rumour then, it seemed, that John had made it clear he’d tolerate no foolishness from the crew in that regard.

  “Very well, Bone.”

  “And how fares the widow, Captain?” John couldn’t help his curiosity, especially after that wild story from Osbourne. Blackburn’s brows raised in surprise at this question, but he answered all the same, unusually forthcoming.

  “The widow is … not ‘accustomed’ to men such as ourselves, Bone. I’m attempting to remedy this fact. Till tells me she’s quite amenable, but that remains to be seen.” A new mischief glinted in the captain’s eye, and John both wanted to know and didn’t.

  “Women!” was all he could say, taking the risk of clapping the dark-haired man on the shoulder with gruff familiarity.

  “Indeed, Bone.” Blackburn nodded, eyes focusing elsewhere. “Well? Carry on.”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  John turned back in the direction of the galley, heartened by the captain’s approval of the maid.

  As
though summoned by the lift of his mood, he saw the top of her head surface through the hatch. Brigit mounted the stair to the deck as he approached, smiling when she caught sight of him, cheeks dimpling. Something warm compressed in his chest.

  There’s my girl.

  “There you are, Mr Bone,” she said, echoing his thoughts. “I thought perhaps Mr Grey had cornered you with another of his stories, and you might be in need of rescue.” The maid closed the distance between them and reached up for a playful tug at his beard, as though she’d done so for years instead of mere days.

  “No, I saw to Grey,” he said, taking up her hand and heading back towards the hatch. “But the captain wanted a word.”

  John gave her fingers a squeeze, unfamiliar sentiment welling. He wanted to tell her.

  It’s too soon John, she’ll think you mad.

  “Well I’d like a word, John Bone,” she said, turning to face him at the head of the stair. The galley awaited, below.

  “Would you, Brigit O’Creagh?” He mimicked her formality, but curiosity prickled at him.

  “Yes,” she said, green eyes hopeful, “I’ve something I need to tell you. Perhaps you’ll think I’ve gone mad …”

  * * * *

  Thanks for reading The Maid and the Cook!

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  About Eris

  Eris writes for the reader who’d like to take a vacation from their daily reality, whether through impossibly lusty scenarios, or other places and times entirely. She loves historical fiction, fantasy, sci-fi, and anything that bends a little askew from expectations.

  When she’s not staying up until the wee hours writing, Eris also likes to read, baby-talk her cats, exasperate her husband, and obsess about writing some more. Somewhere in the middle, there will be some OCD flailing and nitpickery and much sleeping until noon on the weekends.

  Find Eris Online

  Website: http://erisadderly.com/

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  Also by Eris Adderly

  The Skull and Crossbone Romances:

  The Devil’s Luck - Lust and discovery, betrayal and secrets in the age of sail. Oh yes, and pirates. Dirty, dirty pirates. A young widow from Bristol is ready to sail for the Colonies, but fate seems to have other ideas. A full-length erotic bodice-ripper novel to satisfy your thirst for adventure and pleasure on the high seas.

  The Decline and Fall of Rowland Graves (A Devil’s Luck Vignette) – A tragic, Gothic romance novella, with a dark, Halloween twist. The origin story of the villainous surgeon who menaced Hannah aboard The Devil’s Luck.

  Stand-Alone Stories

  As Flame to Smoke – A dark, supernatural erotic romance novella, released with The Darker Side of Love boxed set from The Erotic Collective.

  Four Bodies, One Van, No Names – a fun, snarky erotic adventure short, released with The More The Merrier menage erotica boxed set from The Erotic Collective.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to all the people who appreciate a story that wasn’t about the lords and ladies, kings or princesses, with their perfectly chiselled jaws and flawless silky skin, and wealth and education and all of life’s advantages. Regular, flawed people like us need love and sexy times, too. For his sharp editing eye, Mr Jim, you are the best. For beta-reading the original version, Jodie, you know I love you.

  Cover Design by Rochelle Cooper. Stock images purchased from romancenovelcovers.com and dreamstime.com.

  Table of Contents

  I Honey and Bone

  II Peg Legs and Pretty Girls

  III Blades and Madness