Chapter 15
Fuck. Percy’s ballocks drew up tighter against him and threatened to spill at her words. But he wouldn’t let them. Not yet. He wasn’t done making her come.
Without another word, he wrapped his arms tightly around her and lifted. She squeaked, and her sweet cunny tightened around his cock, pulling another groan from his throat. Bloody hell, this woman would be the death of him.
He waited for the bed to swing back down before he placed his foot on the rug and stood with Heather clinging to him, his cock still deep inside her.
As much as he wanted to try out every position he’d fantasized about, he knew he wouldn’t last. The woman had come so prettily, and she tasted like fucking heaven.
In two long strides, he pressed her up against the wall of windows. She gasped, no doubt at the cold, and he quickly dipped to suck one of her nipples into his mouth.
Her gasp turned into a moan, and he smiled against her, rolling the little bud gently between his teeth before releasing her with a pop.
“Percy.”
He kissed his name from her lips, sucking her tongue into his mouth as he resumed his thrusting.
Tingles shot down his spine, warning him that his climax was imminent.
But he wanted her to come again, to come with him.
So he pressed her harder against the glass, using his weight to keep her up as he let his hands wander.
One hand slid between them to tease her little pleasure spot, swirling and flicking, while his other slid around her arse to tease her hole.
She gasped against his lips. “Percy!”
“Will you let me, sweetheart? Will you adventure with me?”
Her eyes were wide as he circled her hole and her cleft simultaneously with his fingertips while thrusting his cock in her.
“Oh my god. Oh, Percy, that’s—”
Her chest rose and fell with each breath, and her mouth dropped open in bliss as he fucked her.
“Come for me,” he urged, increasing his ministrations.
“I…” she gasped.
Her cunny squeezed him tight just before her head fell back against the glass, her nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders and neck. And, at last, he broke. His ballocks drew up tight as he thrust one last time, emptying himself into the condom as shudders wracked his frame.
They stood thusly for several long minutes, their breathing gradually returning to normal, before Percy lowered Heather to her feet.
“Are you well?” he asked, twining a lock of her fallen hair behind her ear.
She shuddered in his arms. “Very well, indeed.”
He grinned and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Come, let us get clean and get some rest.”
The glass of brandy slid across the table as the America tilted, and Arnold Fitton, the Earl of Hanley, caught it before it knocked into the table’s short rail. They ought to do something about the dreadful to and fro of the ship. It had grown tiresome.
“It would appear that they’ve continued on to the Americas,” the captain was saying.
Arnold’s ears perked, his fury barely banked beneath the surface of his skin. “Are you certain?”
“The ship’s original direction—”
“Never mind that,” Arnold interrupted, impatience riding him. “Do you know where in the Americas they aim to dock?”
The captain’s lips tightened. “There is a place in the Golfo Mexicano where our warships have found success finding pirates, but no raid has yet taken place. There is a good chance that the Pandora has gone—”
“Then we shall follow,” Arnold interjected again. “I must have my bride returned.”
Indeed. She’d stolen something of great value to him, and he needed it back. He also needed the bitch to suffer.
The captain inclined his head. “As you’ve mentioned before, your lordship. We are doing all we can, and while our America is a fast ship, the Pandora had several—”
“I care not!” Arnold slammed his fist on the table, rattling the tableware and halting all other conversation in the wardroom.
“They were no doubt slowed by repairs after the battle. But we are on a fresh vessel. We will find their ship—whether it’s moored, sailing, or sunken.
And we will retrieve my intended from those goddamned pirates! ”
Pressure swelled in his cheeks and neck, as it always did when rage consumed him. But he continued to stare the fools down.
The captain of the America—whose name Arnold couldn’t be bothered to remember—inclined his head. “Of course, your lordship.” He turned to one of his officers. “Inform the navigation officer and helmsman that we shall chart a course for the Golfo Mexicano.”
Arnold’s heart leapt in anticipation.
“Right away, Captain.” The officer slid his chair back and saluted before darting from the wardroom.
“There is much to be considered, of course, if we are to venture into pirate territory.” The captain dipped a fresh roll into the sauce on his plate, then took a large bite.
“Naturally,” Arnold drawled, an eyebrow lifted in challenge. “But we shall ready ourselves.”
“I’ve been informed,” said one of the officers, “that more rations have gone missing. I believe it’s time we address the crew…”
Arnold tuned him out, irritation swiftly clouding his anticipation.
He would search this Golfo Mexicano for Calluna.
She would not be free of him so easily. And then, naturally, he would marry the wench, with his aged fool of a cousin as witness, procure the entailment, kill the bastard, and get his wife good and pregnant with his heir.
A sennight later
“Excellent,” Percy said encouragingly. “Now strike your blows.”
With practised movements, Heather aimed at his nose, his groin, and his eyes, all of which Percy blocked in quick succession.
“Well done.” He grinned at her.
Her eyes lit with determination. “Again.”
He nodded. “I shall attack. You block me.”
To his chagrin, his body flared to life each time they made contact. And each time she clasped his wrist or brushed his hand, his pulse sped further. And not from the exertion.
He made for another attack, reaching for her throat with both hands, when she lifted her arms between his and spread them wide. Sodding hell, did it arouse him. She was learning so much, improving with every passing day.
“Yes,” he cheered. “That’s precisely how it’s done!”
She beamed at him, and his chest squeezed.
The past sennight had been a veritable whirlwind of activity between them.
During the day, he manned the helm, and she tended to her plants and learned from Duncan.
Then they would spar, and Heather would teach him all she’d learned.
And in the evenings, they would fuck. It was amazing. She was amazing.
Aiming for a surprise attack, Percy gripped her elbow and pulled. Pride swelled in his chest as she spun, withdrew her sheathed dirk, and pressed it beneath his chin.
He chuckled, but his laughter swiftly fled as she pressed herself against him. Lust hummed through his body, and he groaned.
“Don’t tempt me, woman, unless you wish to be bent over the chest of drawers and taken from behind.”
Heat flared in her green eyes, and she tossed the dirk aside, fully crushing herself against his chest. “You cannot threaten something as delicious as that and not deliver, sir.”
His heart hiccoughed, and he turned them, using his size and experience to take control and press her arse against the chest of drawers.
“Is that what you want right now, Heather?” he growled. “For me to be rough when I take you?”
A low moan escaped her, and he took that as confirmation. He knew what she wanted, and, by damn, he would give it to her.
He gripped her hips and spun her, then ground the ridge of his erection into her arse. She gasped, and he exulted. Reaching around her, he made quick work of the falls of her breeches and tugged, exposing the perfect globes of her arse to his view.
“Put your elbows on the chest of drawers,” he ground out.
Her breath hitched as she bent forward.
“That’s right. Oh, you’re so good. Fuck, and so wet for me already.”
His gaze trailed down her exposed form, his cock straining to be released at the sight of her glistening cunny. He wanted to lick her, to spend his time worshipping her body. But she wanted hard and fast, and he would bloody give it to her.
Gripping a cheek in each of his hands, he squeezed them simultaneously. Little tremors of pleasure danced along his nerves and quivered in his abdomen. He loved how the flesh of her arse bulged between his fingers. Hell’s tits, but he wanted to bite her.
“Stay just like that,” he instructed, his voice rough. “Do not move.”
Condoms, he reminded himself. Must have those. Another element might be fun for her, as well. He hurried to the bed to retrieve a condom, then in two strides he reached behind the chest to withdraw a mirror. He placed it on the chest of drawers in front of Heather, leaning it against the wall.
“Hold this steady,” he told her.
She did, clasping the bottom edges as she locked gazes with him through the reflection.
“Now,” he grunted. “Keep your gaze on me. Watch me fuck you.”
Her neck was flushed, and her eyes were half-lidded, but she nodded.
His trembling fingers fumbled with the buttons at his falls, and he muttered a short curse before he finally slid the material down his legs. His cock was painfully rigid and jumped at each touch of his hands as he donned the condom and tied off the ribbon.
The grin of triumph on his lips was fleeting as he stepped forward, gripped himself, and wet the tip of his cock with her dew. He hissed.
“Please, Percy,” she whimpered.
“Are you ready for me?” he asked, poised at her entrance.
She spread her legs further and tilted her hips upward, presenting herself beautifully for him.
Fuck.
“Yes, Percy,” she moaned. “Take me, touch me. Anything. Please.”
Hell, that gift of carte blanche both swelled his chest and tightened his cods. And he wasted not one second more, thrusting into her tight, slick cunny until he was fully inside. He gripped her hips, holding her hard against him.
A keening moan tore from her lips, and her eyes slid closed.