When she’d cooperated, helping to free her breasts from the leather and even signaling a readiness to strip, he’d stopped her. Time to see her upstairs. He paused, eyes locked on the taut nipple straining against the silk shirt, and he took it.
Her reaction drove him further. He stood, her ass cupped in his hands, and set her on the table. He continued to torture her nipples, squeezing, pinching, sucking and biting. Her fingers gripped his hair tightly, until the danger of losing fistfuls threatened if he didn’t ease off. He didn’t believe she was even aware of how much she urged him on.
He slowly forced her fingers to release his head, setting her cooperative palms at her legs. “Pawes….”
“Uh huh.” She sounded stuporous; he didn’t want her so unaware. The advantage of lethargic cooperation paled behind the shine of a fully awake partner. He glanced at the wine glass—she’d taken little of it. Too little to be intoxicated.
“Look…blast. Pawes!”
“What?” She shook her head, and her arms rose to protect her breasts.
“Better.” He grinned wickedly. “I like my partners to be more alert.”
“Yeah, well, that’s nice,” she said. “Oh, hell, what am I doing? What were you…doing?” Her palms eased her breasts, cradling them. “Ouch,” she said softly.
“You want me to stop?” He was curious. He’d no intention of stopping.
“Yes, no. I don’t know!” She sighed. “I’m not used to feeling like this.”
“You are not a virgin.” He didn’t actually ask, but stated. She was a mature woman, and no nun.
“No! I was married for over thirty years.”
Her objection amused him. “Was?” He lightly touched her cheek. “He leave you? Divorce? Dead?”
“Dead,” she whispered, bowing her head. “Only man I’ve ever known, Alan.”
“Impressive.” His hands seemed to have a mind of their own, rising to push hers aside and meddle with her breasts. He didn’t betray how thoughtful her words made him. He’d be the second man to know her. “Good, not a virgin. I find inexperienced women quite annoying.”
“Thought…thought men preferred virgins.” She whimpered, but didn’t try to block him access.
“More trouble than they’re worth.” He closely observed her tongue, darting out to lick her lips. He knew hunger and felt her tremble under his touch. “Damn, how long have you been widowed?”
“Almost a year.” She reached up, searching for his face. She touched his chin and wandered with her fingers. “How old are you? What do you look like?”
“You tell me.” He enjoyed this game. Her hands, small, shaking while they wandered the topography of his face, tested his patience. He contemplated sucking a finger into his mouth. She scratched at his beard, ran a thumb about the bristles. He kept it trimmed relatively short.
“Stiff…some gray hairs?”
He didn’t say anything. She continued her journey. She lingered a bit on his lips before gliding her fingertips further. He kept cupping her breasts, but stopped fiddling with them. He was curious to see what she’d deduce.
She found the deep scar at his left cheek and tilted her head. “Hard battles? Or an angry virgin?” He chuckled. She actually snickered.
She continued along the bones of his face, lingering at the crow’s feet to the side of each eye. She danced around the tangle of his brows, swept her fingers through his hair, down to his shoulders. She slid back up to the sides of his head, to his ear. Found the earring he wore.
“Gold?” she asked.
“Yes.” He knew she couldn’t tell metals with touch, so he’d give her that. “Your conclusions?”
Her arms dropped. Her head turned to the side. “Are we—can anyone see what you’re doing?”
He thought of lying, but she didn’t need the scare. “No, we’re at the back, with one small entrance to the booth. Enough light for me to watch you, barely.” He rubbed at her nipples, wondering why he comforted her. He fought to balance his desire to rut against wanting to know more of her than her body. “If the blouse stains, I will buy you another.”
“How kind.” She covered her tits. “I’m not…sure—”
He wouldn’t allow her to finish. Sweeping down, he kissed her again, with fierce need, hauling her back to his body and pressing his stiff cock against her. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
Answer enough. He swept her into his arms and headed for the stairs.
“Sissie! Get her pack and purse and bring them up,” he called to one of the serving girls.
He kicked the door open, spied the bed tucked up against a wall and strode to it. He lay Pawes down and sat on the edge. She turned toward him and set a hand on his thigh. He removed his coat and tossed it on a nearby chair. Sissie trotted in, dropped her pack and quickly backed out, shutting the door.
He unbuckled his belt and it followed the coat.
She sat up, reaching for him.
“How old are you, Alan? I’m not good at this. I can’t tell from what I touch.” She blew out a fast breath. “I don’t want to have sex with a total stranger.”
He bent to remove his boots. “What do you want to know? Other than my age.”
“Are you younger than me?”
“No.” One boot fell to the floor with a loud clunk. “I am somewhat grizzled, though still quite fit and spry. And I want you, Pawes.” His second boot hit the floor.
She pulled her legs to her chest. “I’ll be honest. I want you. I want you so much it frightens me. I don’t know why I’m here or if I’ll stay.”
He laughed. “A sailor’s dream woman!”
“You work on a ship? I thought so, from the lines on your face. And you smell of the sea.”
“I captain a ship.” He stepped off the bed and stripped away his breeches. Taking his cock in hand, he stroked it, eyeing her. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
“Oh.” She removed her bodice, reached behind to touch the headboard, and folded the leather over it. Swallowing nervously, she pulled her blouse out from beneath an impressive, black belt and slowly shimmied out of it before setting it near the bodice.
His breath caught at the sight of her bare breasts. He fought to keep his hands still.
When she leaned back and went through some fancy back and forth to unbuckle her belt, he nearly leaped at her. He swallowed, holding himself steady
She sat back up and carefully removed the strip of leather. She kept a few items hanging from it. He took it from her. “Let me.”
“Thanks.”
He draped the belt, after making certain her dangles were safe, near her other pieces. No more waiting. He lay down next to her, though she still wore her skirt. He settled down against the wall, brushing against her to reach that place. She scooted closer to the edge. He pulled her back.
Reaching to her chin, he tilted her head to his. He took her mouth with the same explosive force he’d held back the first time. One hand seized her breast as she arched toward him. Her left hand gripped his hipbone, shaking.
He wanted her more than he’d wanted anything in his life. There was no reason for it, but it was the truth.
Chapter Six
She was out of her mind. She’d met him only a few hours ago. And now she sat on a bed, blindfolded—sure, to protect her eyes—but if she wasn’t nuts, she’d wait until they were better to have her first fling since becoming a widow.
Her mind raced ahead of her body, thinking about what it would feel like, what he was like. At least he said he wasn’t younger. Her drooping boobs, loose skin, belly wouldn’t matter. Right?
What would this be like? Only the second man ever to touch her.
The fire between her legs screamed, overriding the remaining aspects of the situation. No self-consciousness, no worry there. It didn’t care if he found her body repulsive, only that he found it. Quickly with his cock.
He slid over her, his hair touching her face. She fought back the urge to whimper. Guess he liked the wall.
The kiss pushed her down into the soft mattress like a battering ram, and his hand at her breast started a combustion like she’d never known.
He was ruthless, manhandling her nipple, bruising her lips. She tried to peel his fingers off her breast; the grip was too much. He growled, snatched her hand away and held it above her head. His mouth took the place of his hand. That provided relief. Though relentless, he did seem to gain a modicum of control, sliding and pinching instead of biting and squeezing. He moved down her body with his lips, removing his grip from near the headboard.
“Don’t move that,” he demanded.
“Uh huh.” Damn, she had no language skills! But she obeyed him. She was taking no chances on giving him a reason to stop.
He kissed her waist while his hand tugged at the knotted skirt tie. It gave easily, and he pushed the skirt down. Emily cried. She didn’t know why, but felt the tears running from her eyes. He didn’t appear to notice. She was glad of that, because they were beyond explanation. The blindfold caught most of the moisture.
He rose to his knees and tugged her skirt down. She lifted enough to make it easy. She could feel his cock at her thigh. It was so big. Oh, God! Would it hurt? Shit, she hadn’t even used a vibrator in the past year.
He slid a finger through her pubic hair and down to her folds. He chuckled as she gasped.
“Nice.”
His voice seemed more hoarse than before. She could feel his breath at her breast again. The right one, this time. He sucked the nipple into his mouth, his finger slid lower, took a slow turn around her aching tissues, and eased inside. She bucked and he bit, enough to relish, not damage.
The hardness of his cock, its length, the slickness at the tip, divided her focus. Her right arm was between the two of them; she forced it upward. Trying to take some initiative, she grazed the hair at his lower belly with her fingers.
He growled again. “No.”
“Why not?”
He didn’t answer, but went to his knees again, sliding his finger free. Oh! Fuck! Was he going to leave? Did she do something wrong? Didn’t men like to be touched?
“Don’t go!” she cried out.
“Go?” His hands urged her legs apart. “Open. Now.”
She raised her knees, following his inclinations. She truly didn’t care at that point how this progressed. He wasn’t leaving. He still wanted her. At least part of her. But what the fuck, she was only interested in one part of him.
He was suddenly gentle, moving atop her with care. Keeping his weight on one hand, kissing his way up her torso, he reached her face then paused. Alan stretched between them and slid one finger, than another, back into her, stroking her to incoherence. Not that it took much at that point.
“What?” She protested. “No, please, I want….”
His fingers left her then rose to paint her lips with the wetness he’d gathered. The smell of desire rose to her nostrils. He genuinely was intent on debauchery.
“Suck,” he said.
She let him slip them into her mouth and she cleaned them off, out of her mind with what he was doing. He bent and delivered one last devastating kiss, then kept moving until the tip of his cock lingered at her slick folds. He stopped. She drew a breath to protest and he slid into her.
“Oh, my God!” she wailed. “Shit! Damn! Fuck! Fuck! Fu-u-u-u-uck!” Her hands gripped his hips, the hell with anything he’d said before. She dug nails into his ass while he kept to a slow pace, filling her, reaching and stretching her to an extent she’d never known before. So good!
He cradled her head in his hands. “Such a mouth.”
“Fuck me!”
“I am.” He pulled nearly free and went faster this time. “You harridan. More?”
“Yes!” She pounded at his shoulders.
He actually listened to her and thrust with more and more power, until she lost her mind.
***
He doubted he’d ever forget that first time with her. And there would be more—he would drag her from the Quill with a sword, holding the rest at bay if necessary. Her cunny gripped him so tightly, so sweetly. And her mouth charmed him. Thirty years married and so hungry. Her fever nearly matched his.
Once he was certain of not hurting her, he let his control go. He’d come close to doing damage to her breast; he must be more circumspect. She was anything but careful. Her nails dug into him. The pain added to the passion. She screeched obscenities, cursed him, and pled with him.
Her feet locked behind his knees, so that when he pushed, she rose with him. This drove him to an end. She hit the angle of her pleasure and fluttered around him, pouring out wetness as she rode him, sobbing in release. He bellowed as his cock delivered oblivion, collapsing atop her in a state of relaxation he hadn’t known for days.
She wrapped her arms around his back, her legs slowly falling open.
“Damn.” He heard her gasp. He lifted off her, giving her room to breathe.
Her sudden jerk to one side surprised him. She tried to bury her face at his shoulder. “Eyes!” she whimpered. “Burns!”
He quickly slid down to offer her more shelter. “It means they are nearly done looking for you. The spell is trying one last chance to flush you out. Relax.”
The blindfold, fallen to one side, was barely visible. The light from the one candle, near the window, fell on the pillow. He quickly sheltered her eyes, shifting to provide shadow. “Close your eyes, tightly. Cover your face with your hand, while I snuff the wick.”
Stepping from the bed, he walked to the window and took care of the offending flame. Outside, he noticed two figures across the road. They were destined to be disappointed. He wasn’t. They’d leave now, and he could return to slaking his thirst. They would have to manage with initiates.
Turning again to the bed, he considered what he wanted next.
By the time a glint of dawn lightened the window, he relished the sound of her snores. His cock reclined, spent. But his time was up.
Once dressed, he slid the cover down from her shoulder to more clearly see the tattoo he’d caught a hint of in the faint light the night before. Above her left shoulder blade, he spied a circle of dog paws, dancing around a full moon. At her bicep was another ring of paws. He smiled. “Ah, the origin of the name….”
He wrote her a note and left it on the pillow.
Dear Mrs. Pawes,
Next rendezvous, aboard my ship. Last night was a pure delight. I look forward to our next bit of debauchery.
Alan
He removed a small pearl pin from his sash and secured it to her belt—a token of his appreciation.
He hauled his coat off a chair and her bag fell to the floor, spilling its contents. Going to one knee, he gathered up the items. A wallet of sorts displayed a placard. It bore her likeness. He smiled. “Ah, so it’s Emily.”
A small vial of liquid, hooked on a light chain, caught his eye. He unscrewed the lid and inhaled. The source of her apple scent. He liked it.
Lastly, a fabric-wrapped item. Curious, he freed it. The item fell into his palm; the carved Kraken coils made him start. He slid a finger down the handle, and his memories stirred. With a smile, he flipped it over to find a portrait of himself gazing back at him.
The shock threw him. He shot a glance at the woman, dead asleep on the rumpled bed. Confusion roared through him, anger. Did she cast on him? Was this a trick of Mick’s? He surged to his feet, ready to confront her.
And stopped. No, he’d find Mama Lu. She’d know. Casting near Tortuga required her cooperation. And she would not do anything against him. Of that, he was certain. Fairly.
He swallowed, took a deep breath, and stooped to recover the scarf. He wrapped the frame, glancing down at it once more. Only to see his present face gazing back at him. He blinked, it blinked. A mirror. Now it was a mirror? Shaking his head, he finished wrapping it and returned it to her bag. Perhaps, it wasn’t her magic—it was magic. Lu would know.
When he departed the tavern, he left instructions th
at Mrs. Pawes have every amenity available when she rose.
Chapter Seven
Emily woke slowly, her body aching, yet oddly at peace. She stretched, moaning. Her eyelids flickered, and the memory of the previous night’s blindness caused her to open them wide, fearful it was still with her. A wall glowed inches away from her. She raised a hand and brushed at the plaster. Seeing the cracks, her worries eased.
“Alan?” She rolled over, expecting to see him in the room.
It was empty.
Typical man. She guessed. She actually didn’t have much experience with men, having married at twenty. But what she’d read led her to believe this wasn’t unusual. And for men of this century? Who knew? She shrugged as she sat up.
She’d gotten what she wanted, she supposed. So why the acute sense of bereavement? One hand clasped the sheet to her chest, the other pushed her up to sit. Her fingers brushed against something out of place. A bit of paper?
She lifted the notepaper and read it. “Oh yeah? Your ship? Yeah, I’ll skip on down to the harbor and ask for a Captain Alan of the ship something or another.”
But the note lifted her heart some. It seemed stupid to care, but she did.
Good thing there was no e-mail or texting in this place, or she’d find herself stalking him. Searching Google. She imagined the personal ad.
Desperately seeking tall captain who rescued old woman from vampires the other night. Call me!
With a giggle, she set her feet on the floor. Standing, she moaned. Her body creaked, her back gave a loud pop, and her pussy pulsed. Wow. And she needed to pee.
She’d been surprised while she strolled around town the day before to see that the public privies were more than open cesspools. Instead, they featured a crude bit of what she’d term modern plumbing. She surveyed the room, noting a door at one corner.
“What the hell?” She checked it out and found a bathroom.
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