The Pirate's Bride

by Skendrovich, Cathy

  He froze in his tracks at the sight that met his eyes. Sophie hunkered on the edge of the bunk, huge sobs escaping from behind her hands. He strode forward, dropped to his knees and dragged her hands from her red-blotched face. She attempted to pull from his grasp. When she couldn’t, she hiccuped and bleated, “You...you left. Wh-why?”

  He couldn’t help it. He grinned. She was so homely looking when she cried, waspish in her irritation that he would exit after she presented herself to him. She had no inkling that he found her more attractive than at any other time in their acquaintance. He’d never wanted a woman as much as he currently wanted her, yet here she was, ready to cross swords with him for his behavior. He grinned wider.

  Lifting each of her hands to his lips, he kissed first one, and then the other, his mustache brushing her palms. “Sacrebleu, you thought I was rejecting your offer? Mon Dieu, I would have to be an imbecile, and I am most certainly not. I only left, mon ange, so that I could instruct my first mate to adjust the watches and not disturb us unless the ship was sinking, and even then I said I'd better see a foot of water on the deck." He waited long seconds before she offered a trembling smile. Then she pulled her hands from his and surprised him by circling her arms around his neck, hiding her face in the crook of his shoulder.

  He drew them both upright, kissing the exposed side of her neck, nibbling up into her hairline. A tiny sound escaped her throat. He set her back from him once more to look into her eyes, slid his calloused hands down her arms to grab her hands again.

  When he had her attention he said, “I promise you Sophie, nothing’s going to happen tonight that you don’t want to happen. I will stop any time you ask me. I will try my damnedest not to let that happen, but if you say no, that’ll be the end. Of course, I may expire shortly thereafter...”

  As he hoped, she flashed a nervous smile at his humor, and then lost it to study him. He met her scrutiny head on, didn’t even blink as he added, “This is new to me too, ma coeur. I’ve never bed a virgin."

  She shook her head. “You forget. I’m not a virgin.”

  Acid dripped from her tongue. He tipped her chin up with his forefinger to maintain eye contact. “Yes, you are. He may have taken the physical evidence, but that’s all. I am the first to receive what is freely given, a gift not given lightly, and one I will cherish, mon amour. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

  He couldn’t tell her about the annulment he carried. He’d wanted this moment for too long to deny himself now. However, he assuaged his guilty conscience by asking, “This is truly what you want, mon amour? there will be no regrets tomorrow?

  She shook her head. Once more she looped her arms around his neck, pressed her slim form against his body. And froze when she felt the evidence of his desire pressing against her.

  She tried to back away, but he slipped his hands to the small of her back, held her against that rigid part of him. He rocked up against her, whispered, “That’s me, Sophie, wanting you. It’s easy to tell when a man wants a woman, oui? We can’t hide the fact. I want you damn plenty. He used it as a weapon. I won’t. That’s not in my make up."

  He lowered his head inch by slow inch, maintaining that all-important eye contact until his mouth covered hers. He didn’t close his eyes until hers fluttered shut, after he felt her breath of capitulation in his mouth. Only then did he allow himself the exquisite pleasure of sinking into the perfect sensations of kissing Sophie.

  He claimed her mouth as his territory, swept it with his questing tongue until he touched the tip of hers with the tip of his own. He grunted in satisfaction. She whimpered, pushing away from him even as he pressed her body closer.

  Again he paused, whispered into her mouth, “It’s me, Sophie, remember? I can’t help what you do to me, but you set the pace. We have all night, or until one of us goes up in flames, aye?”

  He saw desire bloom in the depths of her eyes. Lowering her lashes like an experienced coquette, she murmured, “Show me, please.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Is it done yet?” Junjie Zheng strode the length of his office. The wide legs of his pants belled out from his impatient pacing.

  His informant, a man known for secrecy and fleetness in sailing, stood in the center of the room. “Not yet. They are getting into position. Perhaps a week, sir, at most. Maybe sooner. It will be done to your standards, sir. Do not fear.”

  Zheng paused. He glared at this underling. “Of course I do not fear, but you have every right to if this doesn’t culminate in the conclusion I desire. I do not like waiting.”

  His anger threatened to engulf him. He breathed deep through his nostrils in an attempt to center himself. The other man stepped back a few paces., “B-but of course, sir. It will be done, sir. Just as you wish.” He bowed low, practically groveling. Zheng dismissed him with a sharp gesture, fuming at this delay in his revenge. More heads would roll if it didn’t happen soon.

  ~*~

  “Show me, please.”

  Que diable? what the hell? Andre’s lust-hazed mind whirled as he stared into those blue eyes filled with untouched passion. did she want him to show her? His cock, now the size of a bull’s and already straining toward her? Or the vision of how he would like her to make love to him, by kneeling before reaching up strong, supple hands, taking hold first long fingers, then mouth—

  Mon dieu, he needed to get a grip on his imagination or this long-awaited event would end right here, in absolute shame for him. no, couldn’t initiate her into what really went between men and women with one of more carnal fantasies. although, if did that her—

  “Andre?”

  Merde, he was in danger of losing her interest. He blinked, returning from his woolgathering to find Sophie’s brow furrowed.

  He smiled. “Oui, madame. You are such a vision I lost my train of thought. Where were we?" He lowered his lips to hers once more while threading fingers into the thickness her unbound hair, tilting head for better access mouth’s environs.

  His tongue slid along hers, twisting and teasing, then licking soothingly, only to start the sensual attack over, until she moaned from deep within her throat. Her body cleaved to his, arms wrapped tight around his neck, unfettered breasts beneath the nightgown flattened against the wall of his chest. Even her pelvis pressed along the stiff length of his maleness with no fearful retreats.

  She returned his kisses with clumsy eagerness, pushing her own tongue into his mouth. He grunted, pulled her even closer. She broke away, began laying frantic, wet, little pecks along his stubbly jaw and down his neck while her hands stroked his shoulder muscles.

  Between nibbles, she muttered against his warm skin, “I’m so hot, so, so scorching inside. This can’t be right. Am I getting sick?” It took him several moments to realize she expected an answer.

  Her innocent caresses threatened to melt him where he stood. He attempted a smile. “No, ma trésor. The illness you suffer from is desire. That means I am doing my job, while you, beautiful sorceress, are too quick a learner. Mon dieu, your lips scald where they touch. and it only going to get hotter."

  At this he reached down and began to pull up her nightdress, dragged it up to her hips before her nervous hands stayed his progress. He sighed, wishing only to get naked with her, but realizing this was the price he paid for being with an injured woman.

  The nightshift still clenched in his hands, her near nakedness taunting him, he searched for his evaporating self-control. “Is it yea or nay, Sophie? I know he did something like this to you, but I told you on our wedding night I don’t make love with clothes on. You have to feel skin against skin. It’s the only way. The proper way, love.”

  He waited, the breath going stale in his lungs. He understood how hard this capitulation was for her, and he vowed to take care of her throughout this experience. He had the patience and the understanding, not to mention the lust.

  When he thought he would have to prod her along, she took hold of the hem of the lawn nightgown with shaking finger
s and drew it up her body. More and more skin became unveiled, until at last the gown went over her head, dropping to the floor in a puddle. She was naked, vulnerable, trembling under his scrutiny.

  He drank in her nudity, all that pale, satiny skin, shimmering with a rosy glow of anticipation and trepidation. His imagination had not done her justice. Those soft curves beckoned his fingers to mold and smooth and tease to his satisfaction, implored him to feast upon her until he was sated, though he doubted that would ever happen.

  He licked his lips in anticipation, wondered where to start, until he noticed the scar running across her abdomen. The still-new, angry line of a wound that had never figured in his fantasies.

  As if of its own volition his hand reached out, gentle fingers tracing the blemish while he raised his gaze past pink-tipped, creamy breasts to her blushing face. She attempted to cover herself by crossing slim arms over her bosoms, with little success.

  He gave a short jerk of his head. “Forget about hiding yourself. I’ll get to the rest of you in due time. How the hell did this happen, hmm, mon amour? It is relatively fresh. I’m guessing you got too close to one of your prisoners, eh, ma fille sotte? This close, perhaps?"

  He stepped closer, invaded the personal space she’d widened when she’d pulled the nightgown over her head. He stood so close his arousal nudged her. He clasped her flanks with feather-like pressure, fingers sinking into the flesh of her buttocks. She jolted at his touch.

  She braced her palms against his chest. Before she could speak, he continued in a conversational tone. “You’d already had a brush with danger before I lectured you about pirating safety. This could have ended very badly for you, love. Although the stitching is very good.”

  Raising a brow he waited for a response, could sense how agitated she was becoming. He could feel the tremors quaking through her where his hands held her bottom. He frowned, searching for a way to ease her anxiety as well as introduce her to the ecstasy of lovemaking. An idea from earlier took form, and his heartbeat began to pound at the thought of what he was about to suggest. He grew harder, if that was possible. Then she began to speak, and he tamped down his eagerness.

  “I-I think it happened on our first or second raid. I was too excited. I got too close. Limey was so mad at me. So worried.” He pulled her against him in response, trapping her hands and arms between them. It was oddly erotic, holding her naked body against him while he was still clothed.

  He lowered his head. “He had every right to be. Not anymore. It is my right, now.” He closed his lips over hers, a wet, demanding kiss, yet still controlled. He nibbled, teeth scraping, and then glided his tongue along the seam of her mouth.

  She gasped for breath, allowed him access once more into her mouth. He swept it like a conqueror, tangling his tongue with hers until she sucked in air, panting. She snaked her arms around his neck again, pressed her body against all his contours. A sigh escaped into his mouth, a wordless plea for more.

  He gave in to his desire, gliding his calloused hands over her buttocks and up her back, then down, igniting his tightly controlled passion with every pass. He teased himself by squeezing her bottom, grinned against her mouth when he felt goose-bumps rise over her flesh. The next time he slid his hands up her sides, they brushed against her breasts. She jumped.

  “It’s alright, ma colombe. I know what I’m doing. He took her mouth again, drugged with long, sensual kisses before nibbling down neck, bending to reach the sensitive skin between her breasts. She shivered, and he dropped his knees. His lips traveled abdomen, leaving her skin quivering everywhere his mouth touched.

  Swaying on her feet, she looked down at him when he raised his head. “Sophie, do you trust me?” He swiped his head kerchief off with one hand and tossed it aside

  He could see her thoughts on her face as if she’d spoken them, could tell she was halfway aroused already and didn’t want to take the time to discuss trust. Her impatience to experience more of the sensations he’d already introduced to her worked in his favor. He forced down his glee as she hastily nodded. He continued.

  “Let me make love to you in as lightly dépravé manner, eh, ma chérie? I guarantee, once get over the...surprise...of it, it will erase any previous bad memories you harbor. Are game, my love?"

  She frowned and cocked her head, trying to guess what he was about to do. Ah, sweet girl, you have no idea. God, he wanted to taste her, to hear her sigh for him. To see her let go of all her fears and inhibitions. For him. All she had to do was say yes. He would gladly do the rest.

  “I-I don’t want to get with child. Will this way get me with child? Shall I get on my knees with you?”

  He couldn’t help but laugh aloud. “No knees yet, my sweet. Perhaps another time.” He chuckled again at the thought before adding, “You will never get with child doing this, mon amour. That is one of its...attractions, shall we say. Now, put your hands on my shoulders, close your eyes, and just feel."

  ~*~

  His sparkling eyes goaded her to do as he bid. Realizing that for some odd reason she trusted him implicitly, Sophie braced her hands on his shoulders and lowered her eyelids. The next instant she catapulted right out of her skin.

  His mouth...Oh, mon dieu, his mouth was there, at her very center. He was kissing her there. Her eyes popped open and she started to twist away, but strong hands anchored her in place.

  “Andre-e-e,” she keened, for now he was using his tongue. This wasn’t normal. It was wicked. It was sinful. It was...exquisite. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, dropped her head back while lightning bolts sizzled through her, surging to her nerve endings with every stroke of his tongue. Liquid fire spread through her entire body, radiating out from where he lapped at her very core. Ecstasy replaced trepidation. A lava flow of sensations pulsed through her, forcing her to rock with the tremors growing within.

  She thrust against his mouth, sought the increasing pleasure every decadent flick brought. She clung to him, her stomach muscles clenching as the throbbing within her changed its tempo. Now it raced her heart, robbed her lungs of precious air, until the rising pressure erupted, exploded into a bonfire of feelings.

  She screamed high and long as the inner earthquake shattered her senses. She lost her hold on him as she plummeted from the pinnacle he’d taken her to, gasping for air, though nothing got past the tightness in her chest. Her legs wobbled as a newborn colt’s, and she would have collapsed if he hadn’t caught her in his arms and laid her on their bunk.

  The straw mattress dipped, and then he was pulling her close, stroking her hair and whispering French endearments. He kissed the top of her head while she quivered in the aftermath of what he’d done to her.

  He continued smoothing his hand over her hair and down her back. She shivered at his caress. Just moments earlier, he’d set her aflame, but now his touch soothed. Her eyelids had weights on them, her body was as limp as a ragdoll’s. When he shifted away from her, she mewled in distress, and was embarrassed at the needy sound.

  She tried to speak, had to take large gulps of air first. “Oh, mon dieu that was...that was...who thought of that? i have never, ever heard... mon dieu. She sputtered to a halt, one wilted arm draped across her eyes.

  “Nothing like before, eh, ma chérie?"

  She peeked at him from beneath her arm and shook her head. It had been nothing like she’d feared, and better than anything she could have imagined. He had taken what she knew and transformed it. Where Gilbert had introduced her to violence, Andre had introduced her to making love. He was her hero, her lover, her husband. She smiled dreamily at him.

  He smiled back, white teeth gleaming, earring catching the light from the rising moon filtering in from above. It looked like a halo around his head, and, in her fanciful thoughts, she imagined him as her savior-lover. He’d rescued her from her life of fear and replaced it with such unimaginable sensations she wanted him to start all over again.

  “That’s just the beginning, love. Now it’s my turn.”<
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  Her eyes widened, and that cocoon of goodwill dissipated. She began shaking her head while covering her breasts and crossing her legs. “I can’t do that. I...just can’t.” She stared as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, his hungry gaze raking over her nakedness. Her nipples tightened in response. Her blood heated despite her arguments.

  He sat up. “Relax, ma trésor, I don’t expect such an act from you. not yet. You have to admit, however, it is quite safe from pregnancy, eh?" He pulled his shirt over head, then stood and quickly shucked breeches, tossing them aside.

  She stared at him, couldn’t draw her eyes away from her first sight of a naked man. All tanned and smooth-skinned, marred only minimally with tattoos and scars. And undeniably aroused. She looked away while feeling that familiar rise of fear begin to pump through her body. She caught her breath, tried to rationalize the panic before it took hold of her.

  He wasn’t Gilbert. This wouldn’t be like then—

  The bedding rustled. Her head whipped about as he sank down beside her. He reached out and gently smoothed the damp hair off her forehead. “You enjoyed what we did a few minutes ago, didn’t you, ma douce? It had nothing to do with what happened you before, no?"

  She stared up into his warm, dark eyes and nodded in reluctant agreement, though her body continued to quiver in anxious anticipation.

  Carefully he pulled her legs apart, moved to settle between them. She ground her teeth. He leaned forward to brush her mouth with a chaste kiss, and then closed the remaining distance between their bodies. She squirmed at the feel of him at her entrance.

  Maintaining eye contact he carried on their conversation as if he weren’t about to invade her intimately. “You can get the same results with me inside you, mon amour. Only we can feel it together. It won’t be like what you experienced in the past. My guarantee, love.

  “I confess—I’m dying here.”