37. Pirates
Chapter 37
Pirates
The Waikiki Escape Hotel—A few hours earlier
A fter phoning Tig with the lab results and saying goodbye to Ari, Cerissa caught a nap. Thank the Goddess for the time zone difference—she could work, rest, and lose no honeymoon time with Henry. Waking refreshed, she readied herself for a relaxing evening. They had no specific plans, although he had whispered to her before he crawled into the RV’s sleep chamber, “Eat dinner and be ready at dusk for a surprise.”
Not knowing what to expect, she cleaned up and dressed casually, then went to the penthouse kitchen, ate the chopped salad she’d ordered from room service, and selected a bottle of wine from the collection offered.
When Henry strode through the penthouse doorway with a smug look on his face, she tilted her head to study him. He was up to something. She could smell the scent of soap wafting off him, so he must have fed and showered in the RV before coming here.
“Rolf is taking Karen club hopping, so we have the penthouse to ourselves.”
“Ooh, that sounds promising.” She paused in pouring herself a glass of Pinot Grigio to collect a kiss.
“Relax in the living room.” He smiled. “I’ll join you in a moment.”
“Are you going to tell me what you have planned?”
He made a chef’s kiss with his fingertips. “And spoil the surprise? I think not. Tonight is the last night of our honeymoon. Have some wine and watch the waves.”
She kicked back on the couch and followed his instructions, the dry white wine refreshing her after the day’s heat. Through the living room windows, she watched the gentle night breakers rolling up on Waikiki Beach.
The sound of the bedroom door opening drew her back to the room. Henry stepped into her view, and her gaze started at his feet. Shiny black boots that topped off just above his knees. Regency-style tan front-fall placket pants—tightly fitted to his hips and thighs. Next, he wore a puffy white long-sleeve shirt, made from a soft cotton fabric and gathered at the yoke, the neck placket and tall cuffs finished with eyelet and drawstrings. A fancy brocade vest he’d left unbuttoned and a red satin scarf tied at his waist completed the ensemble. No wonder he had brought the third suitcase and set the combination lock so she couldn’t open it. He’d been hiding this from her all along.
Ebony eyeliner made his bourbon-brown eyes stand out even more. A tricorne black hat tilted jauntily, and a single hoop earring with a sapphire stone hung from his lobe.
Wait . Did he pierce his ear just for this?
“You said one of your fantasies was to see me in a pirate’s outfit.” He gave a slow spin. He’d tied his ponytail low at his neck, so the ribbon didn’t interfere with the hat.
Oh my Goddess . The fabric sexily hugged his muscular butt, making her want to squeeze his glutes and rip the pants off him.
In which order, she wasn’t sure.
“I must have chosen correctly, as your pulse rate is already climbing.” He moved closer and knelt before her. “Now, tell me about the rest of your fantasy.”
Okay, that really got her pulse pounding. “Um—”
“Cat got your tongue? Let me help.” He leaned forward, and she felt the firm press of his lips, the soft slide of his tongue into her mouth as they mutually explored each other.
She panted when he pulled back, wanting to grab the soft shirt and pull him to her again.
He stroked her face, then ran a thumb over her wet lips. “ Arrgh , me lassie. Tell me your deepest desires.”
Laughing at his pirate arrgh , she slapped her hands over her face, covering her eyes. “I can’t.”
“Why not, querida ?”
“I’m too embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed? After a year of passion, after all the things you’ve asked me to do, how can anything embarrass you?”
“I just am.”
He gently peeled her hands away from her eyes. “Then you’ll leave me no choice but to improvise.”
Her phone rang from where it sat on the coffee table. She checked the screen. Tig’s name flashed in bold letters. “I, uh, should get this. I spoke to her almost two hours ago—I made a point of calling before you woke to avoid interruption. For her to call again so soon, it must be important.”
“Go ahead. I can wait.”
A warm blush ran up Cerissa’s face. Once he stood up, she was eye level with his tan pants, his hard length pressing against the placket.
This is going to be so awkward. She swiped accept.
“Cerissa?” Tig said.
“Yes? Is everything okay?”
“Ari says you have a lie detector for me?”
Oh hell. Why hadn’t she sent the device back with Ari when he left before her nap? “Do you need it right now?”
“Yeah. Petar’s mate has been lying to us. I have to get the truth out of her.”
“Is Ari there with you?” If this had to be done now, she’d rather Ari bring them to her than leave Henry alone.
“He is.”
Cerissa put her hand over the phone’s microphone and gazed up at Henry. “Do you mind? Tig needs me to show her the new touchstone.”
He squeezed her arm, then pivoted toward her bedroom. “It’s fine, querida . We have all night.”
She uncovered the mic. “Ari, can you—”
He and Tig flashed in. Henry froze only a few steps away from Cerissa, cringing. Cerissa’s cheeks got so hot, flames cascaded along her jaw.
The raised eyebrows on Tig’s face said it all. “Are we interrupting something?”
“Yes.” Henry gave a stern look. “A little role playing, and we’re not discussing it. Let Cerissa show you the touchstone and leave. This is our honeymoon.”
“Of course.” Tig held up her hand. “No judgment.”
Ari chuckled. “Yeah, don’t yuck their yum.”
Cerissa groaned. “What happened with Janey?”
Tig explained the woman’s deceit, with a little too much input from Ari.
“Got it. The touchstone will do the job. This won’t take long.” Cerissa rushed to the bedroom, found the revised touchstone in her luggage, then returned. It took all of ten minutes to walk the chief through the steps. “Questions?”
Tig shook her head. “Seems simple enough. I’ll call if I need help.”
“No,” Henry said. “You will not. Ari can assist you if you have questions. Now, please leave, and”—he waved at his outfit—“not a word of this to anyone.”
Tig bit her lips together and motioned like she was zipping her mouth shut.
Ari guffawed, then gripped Tig’s wrist and flashed them away.
Cerissa’s face still burned from her earlier blush. “That rather stomped on the mood.”
“But we can rekindle it.” He eased onto the couch and pulled her into his lap. “You were about to tell me your pirate fantasies, mi amor .”
Oh Goddess. How did she wind up here? He looked so hot, so seductive, so dangerous. She loved him that way. “If I have to explain the fantasy to you, it’ll spoil the fun.”
“Perhaps I should just carry you off to the bedroom and have my way with you?”
She grinned at him. “That’s a good start.”
He whooshed her into bed and had her stripped naked in no time. Taking off his tricorne hat, he bowed to her.
The air conditioning budded her nipples—or maybe her arousal came from watching him pose.
“Am I enough of a thirst trap for you?”
She fell into a puddle of giggles. “You watch social media cosplay?”
“I find the vampire impersonators fascinating. But the pirates?” He fanned his hands, sweeping them across the costume he wore. “I can see the attraction.”
He dropped his hat on the bedstand and ran his fingers through his hair, removing the ponytail ribbon in the process so his black strands hung straight down. Then he slid off each boot and untied the red scarf belt, raising the long length of silk by the ends. “Whatever should I do with this?”
Ideas pulsed through her mind, one of which she rejected immediately. “I don’t want to be blindfolded. I want to see you.”
“Then, mi amor , that makes the decision for me.” He took her hand, caressing the back of her fingers with his lips, then brought her wrists together above her head and carefully wrapped them with the silk scarf. “If I’m going to ravish you, I can’t let you stay free. You might try to fight off a rogue pirate such as myself to protect your honor.”
She didn’t struggle, but she giggled when he tried to wrap the cloth around the headboard, only to discover it was too short.
He leaned over and kissed her. “Wait right here.” He grabbed a neck tie from the closet, knotted it to the end of the silk scarf, then tied the whole thing to the headboard’s decorative frame. “There. Now you are my prisoner.”
“Oh, no, whatever shall I do?” she said, giggling again. She couldn’t help it. The role playing felt both silly and exciting, and she didn’t want him to stop.
“You shall lie there and accept whatever I do to you.”
“I like the sound of that.” Especially since he knew just how she liked to be touched.
He stripped off his shirt, and his taut abs rippled with the motion. His tan front-fall pants remained on, the bulge of his erection prominent, and he crawled onto the bed next to her.
He dipped his hand between her legs. “Wet,” he murmured, then licked his fingers. “Delectable.”
The corners of her lips curled up. Being at his mercy definitely aroused her. And when he caressed first the underside of one breast and then the other, she arched her back, seeking more contact.
“Is this what you want?” He brushed his fingers over one nipple.
She released a long-held sigh. “Oh my Goddess, that feels good.”
“And this?” He switched nipples. “I could keep touching you, teasing your breasts for an hour. Do you think you could come this way?”
She squirmed her hips, crossing her legs, the tension growing. “You’re a tease, you know that?”
“Oh, I have not begun to tease.” He leaned over her, his loose hair tickling her skin, gooseflesh rising in its wake, and sucked on a nipple.
His question curled through her mind. The way he tongued her—could she orgasm just from the sensations buzzing from her breasts to between her legs?
He changed breasts, determined to give each equal attention, and slid his fingertips along her ribcage. She jumped.
“Someone is ticklish,” he murmured.
His voice vibrated her taut bud, and she inhaled sharply. “You know I am.”
“I am the Pirate Enrique,” he said, his Rs rolling, his Spanish accent thicker. “And I know nothing of you, my captive, but I’ll soon find out everything that brings you pleasure.”
“I don’t know if I can wait that long.”
He growled, a long, deep-throated rolling R, just like when he said her name, but in a lower register, almost a roar, and he displayed his fangs menacingly.
At the sight, more warmth surged between her legs.
“So, wench, where do you want me to lick?”
“Do I get a say?”
“If I decide to let you.” He dipped his finger into a glass on the nightstand.
The thick red liquid reminded her of the time they’d played with dessert, eaten off each other’s bodies. His version was clone blood mixed with port wine and a little honey for extra body.
He let the libation drip off his fingertip onto a nipple, and the chill crinkled her areola tightly, shooting tingles everywhere. Then he trailed the cool liquid down her belly, over her hip, and drew a red line to her clit. Dipping his finger back into the glass, he refreshed the elixir as she squirmed, and continued letting droplets slide off his fingertip to pool on her warm skin. A shiver ran through her in response.
“There.” Henry seemed satisfied with his artwork and bent over her.
She squirmed as he laved her nipple, then licked down her chest and across her belly, the tension inside her building higher. Gripping her thighs, he spread her legs, raising them. She moaned when his tongue circled her labia as he lapped up the red emulsion he’d painted there. She was so primed, so ready for him. When he wrapped his lips over her clit and sucked, she exploded. Waves rolled through as they washed over her, squeezing moan after moan from her lungs.
When her breathing eased, he narrowed his eyes. “Did I give permission for you to come yet?”
She laughed. “I didn’t know we were playing that game.”
“We are playing whatever game I tell you we’re playing. I am the Pirate—”
“Enrique. Yes, I know. So what’s your pleasure, oh pirate mine?”
He raised an eyebrow, then slowly unbuttoned the pants placket until the square fabric fell forward, and his erection tumbled out.
Commando . She should have expected it. Did she really expect him to wear an authentic costume, right down to his skin? Of course, in his case, he’d know what authentic was back then—he’d been mortal during the Regency and early Victorian era.
After he pushed the pants off completely, the only things remaining of the pirate were black eyeliner, messy, long hair, and a blue sapphire hooped earring. Even without the clothing, the vibe he gave off had her libido rising again.
“Wherever should I put my bite?” He kissed the curve of her neck, then the mound of her breast, the flat of her belly, her inner thigh. Spreading her legs, bending them at the knee to fully open her, he pressed his lips to her clit and hummed.
She sighed, enjoying how quickly he stoked the fire within her again.
Rising back, he tapped the tip of her clit. “Perhaps here?” With a smile, he once again displayed his fangs, then slid two fingers inside her, curling them to build her pleasure. He lowered his mouth, and the fang points gently pressed against her skin.
Was he waiting for her objection?
“Cerissa?”
“Yes.” Her voice caught on the answer as he plunged in, his bite straddling her clit, and the sharp sting, followed by the warm fang serum, sent her flying.
He sucked, feeding, as she came again in a maelstrom of frenzy, the serum’s fire burning her up inside, her hands tightly gripping the satiny scarf that held them in place, and he withdrew his fingers only to rise and plunge his cock into her. She took every inch of him, thrusting her hips over and over to meet him.
She rode the waves as he slid in and out in slow, easy thrusts, then blinked her eyes open to see him above her, the intensity in his gaze almost overwhelming, and his lips descended on to hers for a soul-scorching kiss.
He hooked his inner elbows under her knees one at a time and raised her legs higher, balancing on his forearms to split her open. As his speed picked up, he ground against her with each thrust, his hooded eyes staring into hers.
The twitch, the slight curving of his cock, warned her, and then he jerked inside her, filling her with warmth, and he moaned. “Cerissa…oh my love.”
Holding himself deep in her, his pelvis firm against hers, sent her spiraling up again, and she let out her own scream as she climaxed around him.
When she came back to herself, she felt his fingers untie the knot, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a slow, heartfelt kiss, happy to have him as her husband.
As much as she enjoyed the role playing, the love she felt for him was what made their entwining so joyful. And maybe one day, she’d get the nerve to tell him her next fantasy—just like he’d told her his.