by Lora Thomas
Samuel shook his head. “Nothin’. Smitty won’t hurt ya. He’s been with the capt’n since he took over. You can trust him. But I thought ya needed to know that.”
Kris nodded her acknowledgement but said no more. She went back to work. It was hard, hot work, but she didn’t mind. She loved to cook; it made her feel closer to her mother since the meals she prepared were the ones her mother taught her. She could hear the crew’s approval in the mess as they ate. It made her feel proud to know that she could make these men happy with her cuisine—even though they were pirates. Once the galley and mess were cleaned, she went to her quarters.
Her hand was on the knob to turn it, when the door opened. Max was blocking her way. This was the first time she had seen him—awake anyway—since he forced her to take a bath. She narrowed her eyes at him. He stood there, unmoving, blocking her path.
“Do you mind?” she sighed with exhaustion. “I’m hot and I’m tired. I would like to clean up and go to bed.”
He said nothing. He grabbed her arm and dragged her to the next room. Her attempt at freeing herself from his grip was futile. Once at the door, he opened it and shoved her in. She turned to give him a piece of her mind.
“Don’t,” he said anticipating what was coming. “If you care to look around, you will see why I brought you here.”
She looked at him suspiciously but did as he asked. She was in one of the storage rooms. She could see several boxes and crates scattered around, but in the center of the room, was a wooden tub. Steam could be seen rising out of the tub, beckoning her to its warmth. Confusion crossed her face. How? How did he get hot water? Samuel and she had heated water for the captain, but no more. The realization of what had happened hit her. They heated too many buckets. Some were for the captain, the others for her. She turned to face Max, but he had silently departed.
The small lantern gave enough light for her to notice the change of clothing as well as the small barrel beside the tub. On top of the barrel were several small bottles of fragrances. A smile crossed her face and her heart warmed. Maybe she had been wrong about pirates after all. She quickly undressed and slipped into the warm water. Her muscles screamed from all the work she had been doing and the warm water was their salvation. She picked up several of the small bottles until she found the perfect scent, rose. She poured an ample amount of the liquid into the steamy water allowing the scent to invade her senses. She sighed, closed her eyes and rested her head on the back of the wooden tub. She stayed in the water until her skin wrinkled. She didn’t want to get out even though the water had cooled. It felt good just to sit there.
Taking a long slow breath, she got out of the water. Goose bumps covered her flesh as the coolness of the room touched her skin. She quickly dried off and donned the clean white linen shirt Max had left for her there. A dreamy expression crossed her face. Max had given her one of his shirts to sleep in her second night on board, and he had left one for her in this room tonight.
A wicked thought came to her mind. She still intended to marry this man. What would be his reaction if she entered his quarters wearing only his shirt? Normally, she was already in bed before she would pull her trousers off under the covers. If he did see her in this and make love to her, it would expedite her plan faster, wouldn’t it? She nervously chewed her lower lip as she contemplated the plan. Yes, it would, she convinced herself. She peered out into the corridor to make sure no one was in view and quickly darted into the quarters she shared with Max.
Max looked up from his book when the door opened. He sucked in his breath at the sight before him. Kristina was leaning against the door wearing only his shirt, the deep ‘V’ in the front open to her naval, exposing the inner sides of her plump youthful breasts. Her long raven hair was still damp, and where it had lain on the front of the shirt, the material had become almost translucent, making her dark nipples visible. Her lips were slightly parted as she nervously panted, causing her breasts to rise up with each rapid breath. As he watched her, he could feel himself become aroused.
Kristina could feel his eyes on her, and she became nervous. She shouldn’t have done this. Her eyes traveled to his, and she could see a change in them. They had turned from their normal, dark hardness into a soft, husky look. His breath quickened. She shouldn’t have done this, she told herself again. She placed her hand on the doorknob so she could dart out, but before she could react, Max crossed the room to her.
He said nothing as he approached her. The laces on the front of his brown shirt were loosened exposing his well-chiseled chest. The shirt was pulled loose from his pants, but she knew how low they sat on his hips. She nervously licked her full red lips. Her nervous move appeared seductive.
Before she knew what was happening, Max was upon her. She looked up and his eyes told her what his intentions were. He took one of his large hands and tenderly caressed the side of her cheek. His mouth came down and he kissed her, softly at first. His tongue darted out asking for permission to enter. She timidly opened her mouth, allowing him access.
He pulled her closer, needing to feel her body next to his and deepened the kiss. As the kiss intensified, Kristina wrapped her arms around Max’s neck and pulled him closer. She daringly darted her tongue into his mouth, to explore his as he was exploring hers. A small moan of pleasure erupted from deep within Max’s chest.
He deepened the kiss. This woman had been driving him mad since he first met her and saw her standing on his bed. Since his first view of her perfect little breast, he had dreamed of tasting it, of tasting her. He let his passion take over. His hands traveled to the temptation that had been calling to him ever since his first view.
His hand darted into the ‘V’ line of the shirt. She could feel his hands moving on her breasts. As he cupped her breast, she could feel the heat from his hand. The pleasure she received from this one touch was amazing. He took one of her nipples between his fingers and gently caressed it. The sensation caused her to suck in her breath with passion, and she pulled his head even closer to deepen the kiss.
He quickly picked her up and carried her to the small bed. She slid slowly down the front of his body and could feel his hard frame as he pulled her closer. Before she knew it, his hands had pulled the shirt off her body. He took a step back to look at her. She was the most exquisite woman he had ever seen. Her breasts beckoned him. Kneeling down in front of her, he plumped one of her breasts as he took her nipple in his mouth. He allowed his tongue to trace one pert nipple and then the other, before taking an entire nipple into his mouth. Her hands held him in place and he grew harder.
He was driving her mad! She had never experienced such pleasure in her life, and she didn’t want it to end. He took her other nipple into his mouth and she gasped with pleasure as the heat of his mouth seared her skin. When he lifted his head and rose to her, the heat in her eyes begged him not to stop. He abided her by taking off his clothing. When she saw his maleness, her eyes grew wide as she viewed it standing proud and erect, so thick and hard.
He gently pushed her down onto the bed and began his assault again. He started nibbling her neck and worked his way down. She sucked in her breath as his fingers entered her, but she didn’t resist and raised her hips to welcome him. The pleasurable sensations she was experiencing were unlike any other. She didn’t want them to stop. She moaned and writhed under his caress of her core. She felt a fire burning deep down inside of her that she did not want extinguished. When his mouth took her breast again, she gasped with pleasure. The heat of his mouth was so hot that the sensual feelings surged right to her core.
She felt his weight on top of her. His knee moved her legs apart and she could feel his maleness touch her where his hand had been. A faint moan escaped her lips. She wanted more. She wanted to know him. She wanted to know all of him. Her hips lifted to him, welcoming him to her. “Please,” she pleaded unaware that she did so.
Her small plea was all the invitation he needed to proceed. He quickly thrust deep inside her and felt th
e barrier that greeted him. A loud gasp escaped her mouth as he breached her maidenhead; he slowed his movements, but did not stop. As he felt her begin to relax again, he increased his pace. He never had dreamed she would be a virgin, but the thought was pushed from his mind as he felt her tightness around him, her warmth, her wetness. He closed his eyes and thrust deeper inside her.
She met each one of his thrusts with her own. He could feel her nails dig into his back as he thrust deeper and deeper inside her, until she had taken all of him. He was buried deeply inside her. He could feel himself beginning to lose control. She was so wet, so warm. The velvety feel of her body around his manhood was too much for him to bear. And just when he thought he couldn’t hold on any longer, he felt her tighten around him and a sound of ecstasy escape her mouth. The feel of her climaxing, sent him over the edge and he exploded inside her, leaving him weak.
He lay on top of her for a few minutes, neither of them speaking. The only noise in the room was their deep breathing. The silence was broken by the creak of the ship gently rocking in the calm waters. Burying his head in the crease of her neck, he kissed it. He rolled off her, pulled her body to his and gently stroked her side with his fingertips.
She laid her head on his chest. Never in all her wildest dreams did she think it would be like that. Sure, the prostitutes in the fishing village told her what to expect between a man and a woman but not about the incredible sensations that came with it. She placed her hand on his chest and mindlessly moved her fingers across the hard muscles. She could hear his heartbeat as it slowed and wondered if he had experienced the same pleasure she had.
Max was having similar thoughts. He had had many women in his lifetime, too many to count. Being raised in a tavern did have certain advantages. And as part of a crew, he never lacked for female company whenever they made port. But never in all his life, had a woman made him feel like this. She made him act like an inexperienced youth. He took a slow, deep breath. He didn’t want to speak, didn’t want the tranquility of the aftereffects of lovemaking to end.
She broke the silence in the room. She propped up on one elbow and gave him a quizzical look. “Why do you not wear an earring?”
“What?” he asked. After what had just happened, that was the last question he expected to hear.
“An earring? Why do you not wear one? The other pirates I’ve encountered had them. Why not you or the captain for that matter?”
“You have met many pirates?”
“Well, no. Just the ones who kidnapped me and the ones on this ship.”
“The ones who kidnapped you?!” he asked in surprise.
“Yes, I mentioned them before. Now about your earring?”
“No, I think you brought up a more interesting topic.”
She looked at him, and the expression in her eyes told him she wasn’t going to answer his question until he answered hers. He took an exasperated breath. “They’re easy to rip out. You don’t want one to get caught on the rigging or a sword. Hurts like hell and leaves a nasty scar.” He pointed to his left ear. She could see the scar running the length of his lobe, the bottom of the lobe had a small notch where the wound hadn’t heeled properly. “Now, your turn.”
“No,” she said as she laid her head back down on his chest.
He rolled her onto her back and looked into her eyes. “No? What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I never agreed to tell you about my past, now did I?”
He was beginning to get agitated, which didn’t take much in Max’s case. “Yeah, I think you did.”
“Did I say I would?”
“No, but—”
“There’s your answer.” She closed her eyes.
“I should have figured you’d be like every other woman I have ever met,” he snapped as he rolled over and lay on his back.
Her eyes flew open and she sat up quickly. Grabbing the quilt laying beside the bed she pulled it up to her breasts and turned to face him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He narrowed his eyes as he addressed her. “It means that all women are alike. They say one thing and do another.”
“Wh … what are you talking about?!” she asked with disbelief in her tone.
“I’ll tell you what I’m talking about,” he heatedly replied as he sat up. “Women, all women, tell lies, betray you. Here I thought you might be different, but they all turn out to be like her!”
“Why you … are you insinuating I’m like that horrid woman Juliana? I ought to—”
“No, my mother!”
A shocked expression crossed her face. How in the world did their conversation turn to this? She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths trying to control her temper. “Your mother?”
“Yes, all women are like that horrid bitch that gave birth to me. Lying, conniving—”
Before he could finish his insult, she pointed her long, dainty finger in his chest. “I don’t know what kind of woman your mother was, but I’m certainly not her.” She took a breath before she continued her rampage. She looked into his eyes, and for a brief second, she saw pain. What had his mother done to him to make him hate her—and women in general—so much?
“All right. You want to know my sordid past? Fine,” she snapped and told him her life story, every last detail. She told him of her parents, of their murders, of the horrible treatment received from the nuns. Her voice quivered, but she kept talking in great detail of the day she was kidnapped, sold, and of her escape. She returned to the day her parents were murdered. “I will never forget the image of that man who killed them—his evil amber-colored eyes and mousy brown hair and his navy blue uniform. I hope that man dies a horrid death.”
When she had finished, she stood up and walked to the chair where her shirt lay. She quickly pulled it on and tried to keep the tears from coming to her eyes. She turned and bumped into him. He pulled her to him and gently embraced her in his strong arms.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. She buried her head in his chest and clung to him. He stroked her hair as all her pain came pouring out.
As he listened to her tale, he couldn’t help but think of how her parents’ murderer sounded like Commodore McClain. But surely this was coincidence? What would be the odds that he would have killed her parents, too? He kept the thought to himself, not wanting to upset her more.
She held onto him as if her life depended on it. Her tears would not stop. She had held back so much pain for so long. Now here he was, allowing her to become vulnerable. His presence made her feel safe and secure. A thought came into her mind. Here he was consoling her, when it appeared his life had been just as bad, if not worse. That thought made her cry even harder.
When her tears ended, he tenderly lifted her face to him. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, picked her up and carried her to the bed. Laying her down on the bed, he crawled in beside her and pulled the quilts up over them both. He wrapped his muscular arms around her, wanting to protect her from the evil she had experienced.
He whispered in her ear, “I will never let anyone harm you, Kristina.” Peace and tranquility filled her as she clutched his arm, feeling safe and secure for the first time since her parents had been murdered.
Chapter Eleven
The voyage to St. Kitts went better than expected. The Abyss had come to the aid of another vessel. While assisting the other vessel, fate played a helpful hand. The ship that needed assistance was the same vessel that had commandeered the items from Emerald Shipping. After a brief battle, The Abyss defeated the thieves and reacquired the stolen merchandise. Once the merchandise was safely loaded onto The Abyss, they redirected their course back towards Nassau.
Kris was curious as to what had transpired between Max and his mother, but did not dare broach the subject with him. She had learned from experience, as well as the crew’s gossip, that Max had a horrible temper. His temper was easy to fuel, and he had lost control many times, even nearly killed men because of it. Little did she know she was abo
ut to experience such a display sooner than she thought.
She and Samuel were drenched in sweat from the heat in the galley. The breeze had died down earlier in the day, so no air was stirring in the kitchen even with all the small portals opened. Samuel had even managed to move one of the cannons back from its resting point to see if that would help, but it didn’t.
“I’ve got to get some air before I end up more roasted than the chickens I’m fixing to kill,” Kris told Samuel.
“I don’t think that would be a wise decision,” he said. “Some of the crew are new and I still don’t trust them. If they saw you, I don’t know what would happen.”
Kristina patted Samuel’s hand, touched by his need to protect her. She knew he was still in pain from the loss of his mother and was using her to fill that void. “I’ll keep my disguise on. I just have to get a little air, Samuel, before I die.”
He nodded his head. “I’ll keep watch over you. A little air would be good.”
As they exited the galley, a breeze drifted down the corridor. A sigh of relief came from Kristina as she lifted her head, allowing its coolness to flow around her neck. They approached the deck and she looked at Samuel.
“I’ll stay right over there,” she said as she pointed to an area close to where they were standing. It was out of the way of the others and the crew had no need to be where she was pointing.
Samuel nodded his head. “I need to go tell Smitty somethin’, but I’ll be right back.”
She walked to the area she mentioned. It was close to the railing beside the steps that led down to the forecastle, behind some crates and out of the view of most of the crew. She placed her hands on the railing and closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the light breeze, unaware of the man coming up behind her.
An evil sneer crossed the man’s face. He had been wanting to see how horribly disfigured the cook was. It galled him that the cook got his own private quarters while he had to sleep in the forecastle with the crew. No one looked down on Ronald Hensley or placed lowly cooks above him. Back in England he was well known. Even though he did not have a title, his betters respected him. If he hadn’t been accused of murder, he would have never left London in the first place. He walked quietly up to the cook and pulled the hat from the cook’s head.
