Paid to the Pirate by Una Rohr
Chapter 18
Colt
Iwas the worst inquisitor in history.
So bloody bewitched by Charlotte’s bare cunt, I’d neglected to truly press the main point of her humiliation -- to make her confess. Not to her shame, not to liking it, but to the truth of that night. She refused me but once and I let it go.
At least I’d succeeded in forcing her to succumb to lust. But I’d missed the point entirely and was left feeling more enthralled than ever.
I dropped my head into my hands.
Who had won this round?
Charlotte’s shoulders rose and fell gently as she breathed in sleep, beside me. I couldn’t make myself seize those shoulders, to shake her awake and demand to know the truth. Funny how such a lying vixen could look so innocent in slumber. Her long legs splayed, free from her skirts. Her full breasts pushed at the thin cloth of her shirt. Her hair tumbled in all directions. Plump, pink lips parted to breathe -- an echo of other plump lips, gently parted. She looked as if she was begging to be ravished. A Goddess, a temptress, a siren of the sea washed ashore.
A far cry from the half-starved girl I once knew.
What had I done to deserve such torment?
Nevermind. I knew.
It didn’t stop me from hurrying to the laces on my breeches, eyes pinned to Charlotte’s sleeping form. Standing above her, I moaned as I grasped my throbbing cock and pumped. If I’d had to wager, I didn’t believe I would receive much resistance if I yanked her shirt out of my way and buried myself inside her. I’d tell her there was nothing to be ashamed of. I’d make her enjoy it.
I groaned at the fantasy, pumping faster.
Why should it be a fantasy? I had every right to take her after what she’d done. I could force my way into her wet sheath and spill my seed into her ready womb.
My right, I repeated in my head as I neared my release. My Charlotte. My cunt. Mine, mine.
I came into my waiting hand like a boy ashamed at his actions. Instant rage rose within me as I realized I was hiding it from her.
Why should I care? She was mine to mark.
Running my semen-covered hands up her legs, I coated her soft skin. Would she realize it on the morn, I wondered, or would the stickiness just blend with the ever-present salt air aboard a ship at sea?
Charlotte did not stir. Her breathing was even and her face relaxed, oblivious to my soiling her pristine skin.
With the final drops, I brought my fingers to her lips and traced them, leaving another coating of my seed around her mouth. When she still didn’t awaken, I dared further, inserting my thumb and depositing a dollop on her soft tongue.
Mine.