Paid to the Pirate by Una Rohr

Chapter 20

Colt

“Iwon’t touch you. I can’t…” I broke off in an annoyed chuckle. “Do much in this state anyway.”

Holding Charlotte’s gaze I said, “Stay with me, lay with me. That’s all.”

Her pupils had blown wide, perhaps with fear or arousal. But she’d moved away from me, as if the answer would be no.

Fuck that. No. I clenched my jaw to stop myself from clenching her arm. What had she reduced me to? What did I care whether she wanted to do something or not? Maybe I did care, once. But that was a long time ago. Right?

I lifted her chin with my thumb and forefinger. If she couldn’t hide from me, maybe she wouldn’t hide from herself either.

“Just stay this night, in my bed, beside me. Not because you’re my prisoner, not because I’m forcing you. Because you want to.”

I heard her breath, short and fast. I was so intent on her eyes, I wasn’t even distracted by her breasts, rising and falling above me. Well, barely. Her eyelids fluttered closed, pained. I braced for rejection.

When she spoke, her voice was so soft I strained to hear her.

“What if what I want is for you to… force me to?”

Charlotte averted her eyes, seemingly alarmed with herself.

A sense of power tore through my chest, swelling with pride and possessiveness.

Easily done, my lady. So easily.

Well, it would have been easier if I’d remained uninjured. I stood, struggling a bit.

“Don’t,” Charlotte protested weakly, standing to match me. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

I grabbed her. She gasped but she yielded, limp in my arms,moaning as I escorted her to the bed.

That was all it took -- I exerted my power over her and she moaned. Her arousal didn’t even require I strip her, caress her, kiss her. The thrill it sent to my mind as she succumbed was intoxicating. The nearest I’d felt was the delight of victory in claiming another man’s ship, the crew on their knees… but such triumph didn’t stir my cock, certainly not to harden as painfully as when Charlotte submitted to my will. Unbelievably, this headstrong little girl captivated me more than a victory over the king’s navy.

“Careful,” she whispered as I laid her down, “you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Let me worry about me,” I told her. “Stay where I’ve put you.” I kissed her forehead and threatened, “Or I’ll be forced to hurt you.”

She blushed so prettily as she looked down and bit her lip.

“What will we do, captain?” she whispered. “If you hold true to your word and don’t molest me this evening, how shall we pass the time?”

“I could read to you,” I suggested.

“I have to confess, I’m surprised a brute like you can read. I didn’t imagine a pirate captain to sail with such a wonderfully curated selection of books.”

I laughed so hard it pained my ribs where I’d suffered a blow during the battle.

“How else would I have taught wayward girls such as yourself?”

The crease in Charlotte’s brow told me something was off. Maybe I’d struck a nerve. She’d come so far from those days, perhaps she didn’t want to be reminded of them.

“I think it’s better I should read to you,” Charlotte said finally. “You can’t use your arm well enough to hold up a book.”

I snorted. “It’s fine.” But I allowed her to scurry off the bed and select a tome from my small library. She was right -- I’d selected those books carefully, but they were ever-changing. One, because I hungered for new knowledge and two, because the salt air inevitably soiled any volume kept too long at sea.

I folded one arm beneath my head and arranged myself as comfortably as I could. When Charlotte returned to the bed, her swaying necklace caught my eye.

“Why do you still wear the locket?” I asked. “Did you keep it all this time and put it on only when you saw we were coming? Or have you always worn it?” My voice trailed off in disbelief.

Charlotte paused, stroking the gold oval, then quietly confessed, “I’ve never taken it off. I always wear it.”

“Why?” I whispered, still disbelieving.

Don’t hope, don’t you dare, I cautioned.

“To remind me,” came her cryptic reply.

To remind you of your hate, I thought, and to strengthen your daily resolve for revenge.

Yet that foolish, hopeful voice in me wondered if maybe some part of Charlotte wanted to be reminded of something else.

That night.

Charlotte opened the book and began reading but I couldn’t even hear the words. Having her willingly in my bed, having her open a bit to the past, distracted me to the point that I was incapable of listening.

She’d only made it a page or two before I grabbed her hand to stop her.

“Why did you kill Maurice?” I asked, practically begging. “The truth.”

“I wouldn’t-” she protested, then stopped and lifted her chin. “He deserved it.”

I studied her face. “That wasn’t for you to decide.”

“Whose decision was it? Yours?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Because you’re the captain?”

I tried to meet her eyes, but she refused.

“You know why,” I said.