Paid to the Pirate by Una Rohr

Chapter 8

Colt

I’d seen men the size of mountains break down and beg for mercy. I’d seen knaves I’d thought bore no honor sacrifice themselves for the right cause. I’d seen unimaginable wonders deep inland that no one would believe back in England.

But nothing mystified me more than the wanton writhing of Charlotte, bent over my bed and grinding herself to release.

I snapped my dry mouth shut. The girl I knew before never…

I narrowed my eyes.

Had someone shown her pleasure? That skinny boy called Daniel?

Red threatened the edges of my vision.

But no, astoundingly, she’d called for help at the height of it. As if the poor thing couldn’t understand what was happening. As if it were the first time.

Her first climax. Brought on by my belt.

Unless it too was an act?

“Please,” she breathed, once her convulsions ceased, almost too low for me to hear. “No more.”

Kneeling, I brought my face to her cunt and heard her shamed squeak above. My eyes widened. Soaked. Like a whore, came the enticing thought. My whore.

The erection I’d had since closing the door to my cabin now strained painfully against my breeches.

Was she playing me false somehow?

I moved up the bed, bringing my face to hers. Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut. Even in the dim light, I could see pleasure and mortification flush her face.

“Open your eyes,” I ordered, soft, but firm. When she didn’t move, I added, “Unless you want to repeat your punishment.”

Her eyes flew open. Terrified, tear-filled. Guileless.

I stumbled backward as if I’d been struck.

If this was an act, it was her greatest yet. No. No, she’d climaxed against the edge of my bed. The evidence was plain. I ran a hand down my face. Jesus.

Charlotte didn’t dare move. Her slip remained bunched at her hips. Her hair hung in disarray down her back. Her wet cunt spread before me, ready, inviting. A ploy?

Backing up, I palmed my erection, gritting my teeth. Nothing would stop me from shedding the cumbersome breeches and burying myself to the hilt in her sopping cunt right now.

What would she feel like? Taste like?

I grew lightheaded -- the idea of lapping my tongue against her slick folds and hearing her moans actually made me dizzy.

Which was probably her intent. Bloody wench. Slippery little liar.

I adjusted my throbbing cock, refusing to even relieve the agony with my own hand. She’d hear it. Know what I was doing right behind her. Know I’d played right into her plan. My, how she’d grown into a temptress these past two years.

Damn the bitch. She could spend the night in the brig. She could spend every night there. I’d refuse to even acknowledge… whatever that lust-filled display was supposed to be. She thought to trick me? I’d simply refuse to even speak on it. By now, the crew certainly heard her punishment.

A rise of jealousy flared in my chest. If they heard what she just did, I’ll cut off all their ears.And their tongues, so they can never speak of it.

Damn them all. And damn her too.

I ran my hand down my face again and withdrew my dirk from its scabbard, now laying upon the table. Reaching over, I sawed her ropes and yanked Charlotte to her feet. She was like jelly, wobbling and ready to collapse. I had no choice but to capture her, to hold her upright.

Charlotte lifted her head as she looked up at me, pink lips parted in shock.

Covering the twitch of my own lips at the urge to kiss her, I sneered, transforming my mouth into a look of scorn instead.

Charlotte drew in a breath as she blinked rapidly. Scared? Confused? I couldn’t read it. It didn’t matter; it was an act. My eyes flashed down to the golden locket. But why did she still wear it?

I watched as she worked to find strength in her knees. Briefly, I contemplated letting her fall, but couldn’t make myself do it. I’d left my mark on her; she’d bear welts for days. Even if her little pleasure-taking at my expense had her sleeping soundly for a few hours, the pain in her backside would wake her soon enough, if not the discomfort of the brig itself.

I needed to deposit her there, quickly, and take care of my own needs.

Damned wench. I wouldn’t be sleeping soundly either. Not since I found her after all this time, and certainly not after watching her half-naked writhing on my bed.

Did she think it would save her? Well, it had. This time. ’Twas but a stay. I’d resume punishing her the next night. And the next. Until she told me what happened to Maurice, the Crimson Eye, and all the rest of it. I wanted to know everything that had transpired up until now; until I saw her sashaying blithely in that Godforsaken tavern in that ridiculous dress.

“You’ll sleep in the brig tonight,” I told her, gruffly. To my satisfaction, her eyes rounded. She managed a wobbly step away from me. I could almost see her mind race with fearful possibilities. My cabin might be a threatening prospect but being thrust unprotected amongst the men she’d betrayed was a different level of hell altogether.

A smidge of guilt made me qualify, “I don’t trust you on this ship and I don’t trust the crew with you. Not all of them. I can’t say one of them won’t try to kill you in the night. I can’t say you wouldn’t deserve it. In his eyes anyway. But at least no one will touch you in there.”

A bit of the spitfire returned as she declared, “You’ll protect me from the molestation of your crew but not from murder? Some captain you are.”

“You want to tell me what happened that night? I’ll bring you above deck right now and you can explain to all of us how it transpired.”

For a moment, she searched my face, and I thought she’d capitulate.

Stubborn as ever, she looked away in refusal.