by Merry Farmer
The opulence of the small room surprised Letty. An oriental carpet lay on the floor and the massive window that looked out at the ship’s wake was hung with expensive brocade curtains. The table off to one side appeared to be some sort of rich, polished wood. A wardrobe of the same wood was built into one of the walls. There were other chairs and cabinets, but what caught Letty’s attention more than any of it was the bed that rested under the window. It was wider than the bed in Pigge’s cabin, though still not as wide as anything she’d seen on land, and laid with a fine coverlet and several pillows.
Captain Foster glanced from Letty to the bed and back again, then let out a breath, his shoulders sagging. “I suppose I should play the role of rapacious pirate and throw you across the bed to take what I want.”
Letty blinked, clutching her book tighter in an effort to still the excited beat of her heart. Her knees felt suspiciously like jelly.
But instead of charging her, Captain Foster shrugged out of his coat and tossed it over one of the chairs. “I never did have the stomach for undue force with the ladies, though,” he said. “Nor for murder either,” he added with a wry twist to his words as he unbuttoned his waistcoat.
Letty wasn’t sure what to give her attention to. He was undressing, and in spite of what he’d said, she knew full well he intended to have her. But the way he spoke—both the words themselves and his refined accent—and the casual, almost exhausted manner in which he undressed filled her with a thousand questions.
“If you do not care for murder or rape, why did you become a pirate?” she asked.
He answered with a short, tired laugh and a shake of his head. “It was piracy or wasting away my life behind a desk somewhere, never quite earning enough money to start the business I truly wish to start.” He finished with his waistcoat buttons and shrugged out of the fine garment.
Prickles of desire that should have filled Letty with surprise and shame, and yet didn’t, raced through her, particularly as he tugged the tails of his shirt out of his breeches. Her mind scrambled for something to say or do that would…that would what? She wanted to see just how the captain intended to have his way with her without force.
“So you simply found yourself a ship and declared yourself a pirate?” she asked, her voice pitched higher as she watched him.
He laughed again, moving to the edge of the bed and leaning against it to remove his boots. “No. As you may have guessed, I’m the son of a nobleman. Not a peer, mind you, but Father did well enough. I’ve a brother swanning about England somewhere with the title, but I’ve several brothers. One of them, John, announced his intentions to leave England for Antigua and to start a sugar plantation, and I decided to go with him. But believe me, plantation life is not for me.”
All at once, a thousand random details crashed together in Letty’s ming. “Foster?” she asked. “Sugar plantation in Antigua?” She blinked. “You are not, by chance, related to a Mr. Jonathan Foster, confectioner and chef?”
Captain Foster’s brow rose in surprise. “He’s my nephew, my brother’s son by his mistress.”
It was Letty’s turn to laugh. “I attended one of his confectionary exhibitions last year. It was quite a scandal. The centerpiece of the exhibit was a naked woman covered in sugar and decorated with icing.”
“Good Lord,” Captain Foster said, dropping the boot he’d just removed. “I bet that ruffled some feathers.”
“It did,” Letty said. “But it was also extraordinarily popular.” She relaxed, stepping to the side and setting her book on the table.
“Jonathan always was a rabble rouser,” the captain went on, tugging off his stockings and tossing them aside before standing. “His brothers and sisters are exactly the same way. They adore their Uncle Martin, of course,” he added with an indulgent grin. “I suppose I could blame them as much as anything for my life of crime.”
“Oh?” Letty’s heart sped up. For a pirate intent on seducing her, talking about his nieces and nephews was an odd—yet surprisingly effective—technique. “How so?”
“If you know Jonathan, then you know he is half black. His mother, Anita, is a wonderful woman. How my brother can love her while owning and destroying so many of her kind is beyond me.” His face darkened to a scowl. “The whole point of the mutiny that gave me my first ship was to foil the slave trader bringing so many innocent souls to this side of the Atlantic. I returned those pitiable people back to Africa, then began harassing other slaving vessels.”
“How admirable,” Letty said.
“Yes, right up until we accidentally captured a merchant vessel with several tens of thousands of pounds worth of goods.” He cleared his throat, looking downright sheepish again. “Money corrupts even the best of intentions,” he went on. “I’ve found that I rather like the stuff. Though I have more than enough now to do what I intended all along, to start my own mercantile shipping business. This was my final run as a pirate. As soon as we reach St. John’s, I’m done with the whole business.”
Letty didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, Pigge had been what most would consider an honest merchant, even though he was the very worst of men. Captain Foster, on the other hand, seemed to be a gem of a man, even if he was on the wrong side of the law.
“And you?” he asked as her thoughts continued to swirl. “Lady Lettuce Marlowe, recently widowed. What of you?”
Letty shrugged, not bothering to adjust her shift when the gesture exposed more of her shoulder. “I was sold into matrimony with a demon by a greedy father. I dearly wish my story were more interesting than that, but it is not. Unlike gentlemen, we women do not have the privilege of choosing our own life or our own fate.”
Captain Foster hummed, though it was difficult for Letty to tell if the sound was disapproval, sympathy, or hunger. “When we reach St. John’s, I’ll give you sufficient cash to return to England, or to go wherever else you care to go to start a new life.”
“That is very generous of you,” she said, brightening.
“Yes, well, before you cast me in the role of hero, I should let you know that I am going to fuck you now.”
Letty blinked in surprise at the bluntness of his statement, her insides buzzing with excitement.
“Not because I am a rake who prides himself on female conquest, mind you,” he said, holding up his hands. “Only because it’s been so long since I’ve had a woman that I’m afraid my prick is about to fall off.”
Letty sucked in a breath, not out of fear, but because the moment she’d been secretly aching for all day was upon her. She stepped forward, coming to stand so close to the captain that she could feel the heat rippling off of him. Then she lifted the hem of his shirt and slipped her hand into his breeches. His cock tightened against her palm, growing hard and deliciously large.
“It seems well-attached to me,” she said, glancing up at him in invitation.
He made a guttural sound, then bunched his hands in the fabric of her shift, yanking it up. Letty had never been so glad to be wearing nothing but a thin layer of linen in her life. With one sweeping movement, she was naked. As soon as he threw her shift away, his hands closed over her breasts, kneading them.
“Good God,” he growled, brushing his thumbs over her nipples, which were well on their way to being tight nubs already. “You’re beautiful.”
Letty was too overwhelmed by the sensation of a strange man’s large hands gently fondling her breasts to reply. Or to feel shame, for that matter. Pigge had groped and squeezed her plenty of times, but it was nothing to the almost reverent way Captain Foster played with her, bringing her as much pleasure as he was clearly taking for himself. And she could tell just how much pleasure he felt with her hand still down his breeches, caressing his cock as it grew impossibly hard.
She gave him just the slightest stroke and he moaned with joy...right before tugging her hand out of his breeches.
“I refuse to spend within thirty seconds,” he panted. “And with you touching me, that was exactly
what would have happened.”
He followed his statement by taking a step away from her and wrenching his shirt off over his head. As soon as that was gone, he unbuttoned and shucked his breeches. That brought the glorious, thick length of his prick to full attention. It was magnificent enough to leave Letty short of breath and aching to feel him lodged deep within her. Which was a wild paradox, as far as she was concerned. Pigge was the only man who had ever been between her legs before, and every one of those experiences had been miserable. And yet, it was as though her body had learned what it wanted by experiencing everything that it didn’t want. She knew the mechanics of love-making, and now she wanted the real thing, if only to expunge every memory of Pigge that had been forced on her.
She moved to the bed, sliding onto the edge and parting her legs. He responded with a growl, stalking toward her. But instead of throwing her back and pounding into her with the force of a storm, he dropped to his knees at the side of the bed. From there, he gripped her thighs, shoving them farther apart, then parted the lips of her sex and leaned in, closing his mouth over her.
Letty gasped, gripping the expensive bedcovers tightly in her fists as the captain raked his tongue across the slit of her sex. The sensations his mouth raised in her were like nothing she’d ever known. It seemed shockingly wicked for him to delve his tongue inside of her, but it also turned her whole body to liquid heat.
That feeling of being nothing but want intensified as he jerked her hips forward, tipping her back to rest on her elbows, giving him even deeper access to her sex. She let out a wildly wanton sigh as his tongue circled her clitoris, then gasped as he moved a hand from her thigh to thrust two fingers inside of her. He stroked her inner walls, adding a third finger and stretching her in a way that left her wet and shaking.
It was too much, too glorious. She was naked and spread on a pirate’s bed, her breasts heavy with need, her nipples tight and sensitive. He was doing miraculous things to her with his mouth and hands. She peeked down at the sight of his head between her legs, his expression one of pure bliss as he tasted and teased her. A needy, tight, coiling sensation began to spread through her core. She bore down on his fingers working their magic within her, moving with him and chasing after what felt like joy itself.
“Yes, my little captive,” he said in a rumbling bass. “Come for me. Show me how much you want it.”
She was too far gone with pleasure—pleasure she’d had no idea existed—to do anything other than obey. His fingers worked in her, and with a rolling rush, like a wave cresting, her body thundered into throbbing pleasure. She cried out with it, reveling in the way her inner muscles squeezed around his fingers. It was pure magic, and he’d made it happen.
She almost wept in protest when he removed his hand, then gasped when he stood, nudged her fully to her back, gripped her hips, and guided his cock to her still-throbbing entrance. She cried out in pleasure again as he thrust into her, stretching her to her limit. He was far larger than Pigge, which should have caused her twice as much pain, but she felt only pleasure. Shattering, bone-deep pleasure as he lifted her hips to meet his thrusts.
“Oh, God,” he panted as he worked himself inside of her. “Fuck, fuck.” He was clearly as transported by their mating as she was. Tension and pleasure pinched his expression and hardened his body. He was standing, which only added power to his thrusts. His grip on her hips grew tighter and tighter, his rocking faster and faster, until he gasped and let out a cry, thrusting hard a few more times. Whether it was her imagination or reality, Letty felt warmth spread through her insides, knowing he’d spilled his seed inside of her. The way he’d been going, he probably shot pieces of his soul deep into her womb. He’d fucked her every bit as hard as any pirate would have, and she was near to weeping with the bliss of it.
At last, he sagged forward, covering her body with his hot, heavy one. They were at an odd angle, half on the bed and half out, with Letty’s head wedged up against the wall under the window. Somehow, she didn’t care about any of it. She loved the feeling of such a big man covering her, loved how disconnected and spent she felt beneath him. He was all but a perfect stranger to her, and yet he’d made her feel things that she never could have imagined Pigge even knowing about, let alone sharing with her. Worst—or perhaps best—of all, she wanted more of him. She wanted him to do every vile thing that Pigge had done to her and that he had made her do to him. She wanted it as if every moment of surrender to Captain Foster would swallow up the memories of Pigge in her mind.
“I’m sorry,” Captain Foster groaned at last, rolling fully onto the bed and dragging Letty to lie the right way around on it. “That was even more beastly than I planned to be.”
“I’ve never felt so alive in my life,” she panted in return. “No one has ever done that to me.”
He paused halfway through adjusting the pillows and burrowing under the covers. “What?” He blinked. “You don’t mean that no one has ever made you come before?”
She shook her head.
He hissed an oath that would have had Letty’s hair standing on end if she hadn’t felt so loose and sated. “That right there is a sin,” he said, stroking his hands over her body as he found the most comfortable way to settle with her in the narrow bed. “Give me a few minutes to rest and I’ll make you come again,” he said. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure after the day we’ve both had than to make you come at least a dozen times before morning.”
Letty’s heart beat a mad rhythm in her chest. Her sex was already beginning to pulse with promise again. But all she could think of to say was, “Aye, aye, Captain.”
Chapter 4
Letty hadn’t slept so well since the shackles of marriage to Pigge had been clamped around her soul. Captain Foster’s bed was too narrow for two people, but they shared it all the same. Letty awoke with her naked limbs wrapped around his powerful body and her head sharing a pillow with him. Everything was quiet. The sound of the waves lapping against The Growler’s hull and a few distant cries of sea birds attempted to lull her back into sleep. Soft, morning sunlight poured in through the windows beside the bed, which had been opened during the night to let in the cool breeze.
It was more than just peaceful and comfortable, it was idyllic. And Letty was wicked for enjoying it so much. Her husband had been killed in front of her, and less than a day later, she’d spread her legs and moaned in ecstasy as a virtual stranger, the man who had murdered him, made her come. Several times through the night. Without hesitation or remorse. Every time, she’d felt that blissful rush of pleasure that she’d never dreamed she could feel. The memories filled her with sensual joy and devastating guilt simultaneously.
“Love, desire, passion,” she remembered the quote from The Secrets of Love as she stared at the cabin’s ceiling. “They are all worthy prizes, regardless of the value society places on them. Pursue them with single-minded focus and without regret.”
Letty huffed slightly. That was easy for the author to say. She wondered if the sections of the book that her sisters now had contained better advice on how to reconcile wicked actions.
Captain Foster must have felt her tense as difficult thoughts replaced sleep. He drew in a breath and shifted to get a better look at her.
“Oh, hello,” he said, as though he hadn’t realized she was in bed with him. He quickly burst into a teasing smile.
Letty pushed herself to sit, her legs still tangled with his. The bedcovers dropped to her waist, exposing her breasts to him—a sight it was clear he appreciated. She didn’t know whether she deserved to cover herself like a lady of modesty or whether she was the whore Pigge had always accused her of being and should be ogled as such.
“I’m sorry, Captain Foster. I didn’t realize you were awake,” she said. She met his eyes and his smile briefly before glancing down in shame.
“First of all,” he said, his tone censorious, “I think you can call me Martin at this point.”
She peeked uncertainly at him. His
contented smile had vanished, replaced by a gentle frown of concern.
“Second,” he continued, “whatever paroxysms of guilt you’re feeling, stop right now.”
She lowered her head once more, embarrassed that her feelings were so plain for him to see. “What we did—” she began.
“—was lovely,” he finished for her. “And long overdue for me. For you as well, I surmise. Have you truly, in all your life, married or otherwise, never experienced an orgasm?”
Heat flooded Lettuce’s face. “My husband was not a kind man.”
“I can see that by the bruises you carry,” he said, suddenly ferocious. A moment later, he puffed out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have used you the way I did, knowing how you got those bruises.”
“You didn’t use me,” Letty insisted, feeling guiltier than ever. “I was willing. More than willing. And I enjoyed every minute. Far more than I should have.” Tears stung at her eyes. “I’m a wicked whore, just like he always said I was.”
“Hey,” he said, his voice suddenly gentle. He pulled her into a surprisingly tender embrace and rested a hand on the side of her head. “None of that. No tears. Every man and woman deserves to give themselves over to pleasure. There’s nothing at all wrong with feeling and enjoying all the amazing things our bodies are capable of with whomever you choose to bed. Anyone that tells you differently or calls you a whore is trying to enslave you. And I am bitterly opposed to slavery.”
