Bound by the Buccaneer (Pirates of the Jolie Rouge)

by Normandie Alleman

“I’m pleased you liked it. Gold is always a welcome gift to be sure, but you and your husband will come into plenty of that when he completes my next commission,” the governor said.

  “Oh?” she asked.

  Gaston muttered into her ear, “I’ll catch you up later.”

  Frederica nodded.

  Governor Whitehurst turned his attention to his daughter, who was now flirting shamelessly with Chatham. The governor tugged on her arm and pulled her away from Chatham. “Congratulations! May your marriage be a long and happy one,” he said to Frederica and Gaston. They watched him drag Henrietta away and laughed.

  When they had accepted the heartfelt congratulations from the last of their guests, they followed the crowd back to the beach. Frederica felt so buoyed by the ceremony that she told Gaston she didn’t need to be carried.

  “Are you certain? Because I will fetch Hatch and the others to bring you back,” he said, a worried look on his face.

  “No, Gaston. I will be fine. I need the exercise. This night air is making me feel better already.”

  “Well, if you begin to feel too fatigued tell me and I will carry you.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

  It was only the two of them left. The sounds of the night had come alive in the dark and they walked toward the water’s edge.

  “What a terribly romantic man you are, bringing me back to the place where it all began for us,” she teased, running a hand across the blue fabric of his jacket.

  “My dear, I have recently come to realize that this is where my life essentially began.”

  She shook her head as if he were telling a tall tale.

  “It’s true,” he insisted. “Before you, I was a walking dead man. I cared for nothing but myself, and I was even careless in that regard. When you came into my life I was determined not to let you in.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. “But you wouldn’t accept that. You wormed your way into my heart you little wench, and now I realize that I cannot live without you.”

  “Let’s hope you never have to,” she said and kissed him, the sounds of the waterfall rippling behind them.

  Chapter Twenty

  The wedding party moved to the beach where bottles of rum, whiskey, and wine flowed freely. Some of the men danced around a large bonfire. A member of Volusia’s crew played the trumpet and a few of the men from the Greed of Hades played their fiddles.

  Near the fire, Henrietta danced with Edward Chatham. Governor Whitehurst looked on, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. The rest of the party seemed to be in good spirits, the sound of laughter mingling with the crackle from the fire in the night air.

  Frederica and Gaston shared a cup of wine, and he asked her to dance. She’d been enjoying the music, tapping her feet in the sand in time, but her energy was starting to wane. Additionally, she feared dancing would make her dizzy. She clutched his hand to her breast. “I’d like to retire if possible, master.”

  “Your wish is my command,” he said.

  Gaston led her to one of the small, beached rowboats and pushed it back into the water. He held the boat steady and Frederica tiptoed through the sea foam. Lifting her heavy skirts, she climbed into the boat. The dress took up so much space that Gaston had to tuck it into the sides, and she clutched the fabric to her body, trying to make room for him in the small boat.

  When he got in and began rowing, she laughed. “This dress is the size of a sea monster.”

  “You’ve never looked more beautiful,” he said.

  “Even with this bandage?” she asked, uncertain.

  “What bandage?” he asked, pretending not to notice.

  “This one!” she laughed and pointed at the white strip around her head.

  “I don’t see a bandage,” he teased.

  She reached into the water and splashed water up at him, giggling.

  “Truly, I have never seen a more beautiful bride, my love. And tonight we have the entire ship to ourselves.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “No, I am not, and even though you’re still ailing, I intend to make you scream.”

  “Loudly?” she asked the excitement in her voice building.

  “Oh, yes.”

  “You never let me scream loudly.”

  He winked at her. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

  Soon they reached the Ocean’s Knave, boarded it, and made their way to their cabin.

  Once he’d closed the door, Gaston turned Frederica to face him and kissed her. He started at the hollow of her throat and moved slowly, up her neck in a sensuous ascent to her ear. Taking her tender earlobe between his teeth he bit down with just enough force to bring the nerves to life.

  Frederica luxuriated in his touch and craned her neck for more.

  Gaston chuckled, “You’re a greedy little bride, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, master.”

  “Then I’d better get you out of this gown.” He stepped behind her and began to unbutton the numerous buttons of her gown. Then, as the dress fell to the ground, he caressed her shoulders, pushed her hair aside, and kissed the nape of her neck.

  After unlacing her corset, he removed the rest of her undergarments and gazed upon her. Gaston had seen her naked hundreds of times, but now that they were man and wife it felt different. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and feeling shy, she covered her breasts with her hands.

  “We’ll have none of that,” Gaston growled and took her wrists in his hands. “There will be no false modesty with your husband, madam.”

  Madam. This was the first time he’d ever called her that. Before she had always been a mademoiselle. But now…

  “Oh, you don’t like that?”

  She furrowed her brow. “It’s nothing.”

  He took her in his arms and whispered in her ear. “Let me show you why it is a good thing to be my wife.”

  He laid her on the bed and took out the ropes he so often used to bind her. Slowly and purposefully he tied her wrists together then attached them to the hooks on the cabin wall. She loved the feel as he draped the rope over her body, relished the way it scratched her skin ever so slightly, reveled in the weight of it as it slid over her flesh.

  Once he had bound her arms above her head, she tugged at the bindings and found she could move them less than an inch in any direction. She’d learned to crave the feeling of helplessness being restrained brought her and as it washed over her, she moaned with pleasure.

  Gaston had undressed save his breeches and he looked down at her the way a cat might eye a wounded bird. Hunger shone in his good eye, and Frederica was struck again by the sexiness of his eye patch. It made him appear dangerous and unpredictable, two of the traits that attracted her to him. His dreadlocks had been tied back for the ceremony, but now he set them free and they cascaded down over his shoulders. The taut muscles of his chest and abdomen gleamed in the lamplight, and she felt as though she would burst if he did not take her soon.

  Hovering over her, he took her left breast in his mouth and suckled until her nipple grew pebbled and hard. He pinched the other one tight between his fingers, eliciting a tiny scream.

  “Ah! The screaming. I assure you there will be plenty more of that, my pet.”

  After he’d attended her breasts and made her pussy slick with wanting, he kissed and caressed his way down her abdomen and down her thighs. Maddeningly, he skipped right past her aching cunt without even acknowledging her need.

  Nibbling on the flesh of her inner thighs, then her calf, he finally lifted her foot to his lips. With a devilish grin, he began to suckle each of her dainty toes. His wet mouth tickled yet aroused her, the sensation felt remarkably delicious. Watching him work her toes with his mouth brought to mind how fond she’d become of sucking his cock. She wanted to reach for it right now, to stroke it. She wanted the feel of him in her hand, but her hands were tied.

  Instead, she closed her eyes and lost herself in the wet heat of his mouth. Suddenly, she felt a rope wrapping around her ankl
e. Her eyes flew open to watch Gaston loop the rope round and around her ankle. He didn’t usually bind her legs and she wanted to ask his intentions, but watching him work was spellbinding, and truly it was of no consequence. She trusted him to do what was best for her. Trusted him to take care of her in every conceivable manner.

  Next, he stretched her leg up over her head, determining how much give he had, how far her leg would comfortably stretch. Frederica had become more flexible since she and Gaston had been together, and she could now spread her legs quite far apart. Gaston must have counted on this because he tied her ankles so that her legs were wide apart, leaving her poor pussy vulnerable.

  Craning her neck to look at the wall, she saw that he had added another set of hooks on which to secure ropes, the scoundrel. But secretly, it pleased her to know that he’d planned something different, something special, for their first tryst as man and wife.

  After he’d secured the first leg, he started working on the next one and tied it the same way he’d done the other one. Now she was completely open to anything he wanted to do to her.

  “Whose cunt is this, my love?” he asked as his palm came down across her eager lips, the slapping sound resonating through the cabin.

  “Oooh! Yours.”

  “I’m not sure I heard that properly,” he said and cupped a hand behind his ear for dramatic effect before administering another smack to her pussy, this time scoring a direct blow to her swollen clitoris.

  “Yours, master. My cunt belongs to you,” she panted.

  One corner of his mouth curved up into a lazy grin. “That’s what I like to hear.”

  He swatted her again, this time harder. “Do you know why I’m spanking your lovely pussy?”

  The blow took her inside herself, and she could only shake her head no.

  Thwack! “Because I want my new wife to know who is in charge.”

  “You are, Gaston. You are my master and you always will be.”

  She felt the head of his cock rub against the engorged lips of her pussy. Her clit thrummed, begging to be touched, stroked. The blend of pleasure and pain had overpowered her so completely that she felt somewhat disoriented.

  There was nothing quite so exquisite as when Gaston turned her into an instrument of his pleasure. He always saw to it that she received her own release, and when he used her to satisfy whatever depraved craving he had on his mind, it ignited a scorching lust inside her.

  He dipped his cock in the shallow pool of her wetness then he pulled it out and drew tiny circles with it across the apex of her sex. Her hips bucked and rounded to meet him, she wanted more pressure against her aching bud, but he stopped her.

  “Darling, you’ve suffered a head injury. It is imperative that you lie completely still and do not move.”

  She glared at him as if he had recently escaped an insane asylum.

  “I will see to your pleasure, but you must remain still. No movement whatsoever; that is why I’ve bound you in this way.”

  A gurgle of frustration escaped her throat as he continued to swirl his cock against her clit. Then his flesh smacked against hers.

  Whap! Whap! Whap! He slapped her with his cock, each blow tenderizing her most sensitive skin. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but it felt as if his cock grew harder with each swat.

  He covered her mouth with his, claiming her with his tongue. Then he whispered, “Enough waiting, you’ve been very patient my greedy girl.” With that he buried himself inside her, the heat of his rod penetrating her to her core, stretching her in the most glorious fashion.

  Imprisoned by her ropes, Frederica had no choice but to surrender to the blissful sensations that washed over her. Gaston rocked back and forth, settling deep in her then pulling out in long, delicious strokes that made her whimper for more. Leaning back, he grabbed a breast in one hand and steadied himself with the other. He contorted to lick her nipple, making a circle with his tongue then scraping his teeth over it.

  This sent her over the edge. She screamed, and the world fell away as her body convulsed and streams of ecstasy flowed through her. Images from their joyous day flashed through her mind—the glint of candlelight on the water, the look on Gaston’s face when he first saw her in her wedding dress, the sound of his words, “You’re mine.”

  Then she realized he was saying those words to her now, at that precise moment. It wasn’t a figment of her mind, but a real occurrence. Forcing her eyes open she gazed up at him. He labored away on top of her, each thrust filling her with a happiness only he could bring her. She couldn’t touch him but at least she could feast her eyes on his muscular arms and shoulders as he completed the act.

  “You will always be mine, Frederica.”

  “Yes, my beloved master, I will. Thank you for taking me as your wife.”

  He ground against her hips one last time before he stilled—out of breath, beads of sweat forming on his chest. He bent to kiss her then released her from her bindings, kissing each inch of skin before releasing her limbs.

  Exhausted, she curled up into a ball and Gaston brought her some water. She drank thirstily and handed the flask back to him. He finished off the rest and crawled into bed behind her, curling his frame around hers.

  “Thank you for becoming my wife.” Gaston murmured into her hair. “Not just any woman would have me.”

  She hit his arm. “That’s ridiculous. I must be the most fortunate woman in the Caribbean, perhaps in the world, to have such a dashing and handsome pirate for a husband.”

  “You think so? Even though he only has one eye and has been known, at times, to do incredibly stupid things?”

  “You mean like…” she meant to say “have your woman sleep with three other men”, but he stopped her.

  “Let’s not make a list.”

  “Alright,” she said and snuggled her behind against his hips. He responded by moving closer and tightening his hold on her. Yes, their world was a dangerous one, but she felt safe and secure in Gaston’s arms.

  His breathing slowed. He would be asleep soon, but she had one last thing to ask him. Nudging him with her elbow, she asked, “Gaston, what was it that Governor Whitehurst asked you to do?”

  A loud snore filled the room, and she elbowed him again. “Gaston, Governor Whitehurst. What did he want?”

  Drowsily, he stretched and said, “Humphrey. He wants us to go after Humphrey.” With that, he rolled over and fell asleep.

  His words roused her attention and she gave him a shove in the back. “What does he want us to do to Humphrey?”

  “Capture him,” he said and dozed off.

  With a renewed energy, Frederica flopped onto her back. While her eyes fixed on the board ceiling of the cabin, she didn’t really see it. She began chewing on a fingernail, already planning and plotting the capture of her old nemesis.

  What an adventure that would be. She couldn’t wait to get started.

  The End

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  More Stormy Night Books by Normandie Alleman

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