Chapter 21 #2
The crew exchange amused glances but say nothing as we make our way to the captain’s quarters. The moment the door closes behind us, Rooke’s control shatters. He presses me against the wall, his mouth claiming mine with a hunger that steals my breath.
“Do you have any idea,” he growls between kisses, “how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you these past few hours?
” His fingers tangle in my hair, tilting my head back as his lips trail fire down my throat.
“Watching you boss my brother around, seeing the respect you command from men twice your size—it’s been maddening. ”
I laugh, breathless and giddy with desire and the sheer joy of being alive, of being free, of being wanted so completely.
“You’ve hardly been restrained,” I remind him, recalling the stolen moments in shadowed corners of the ship, his hands and mouth making me bite my lip to keep from crying out as the crew moved about above us.
“Psh. A trifling to keep us both sated until I could do this.” His hand slides down to cup my breast through the thin fabric of my shirt. “How I’ve missed you.”
His thumb brushes over my nipple, and I arch into his touch, any clever retort lost in the wave of sensation.
He knows my body now, knows exactly how to touch me to make coherent thought impossible.
But I know his too, and my hands move with purpose, tracing the hard planes of his chest before sliding lower.
He groans as I find him, already hard and straining against his breeches.
“Syrrah,” he warns, his voice rough with want. “If you keep that up, this will be over before it truly begins.”
“Then perhaps you should do more than just talk, husband.”
With a growl that sends heat pooling low in my belly, he lifts me, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carries me—not to his bed that dominates the cabin, but rather his desk.
With a sweep of his arm, the items on it go flying before he lays me down with surprising gentleness. His gaze roams over me appreciatively.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers working at the laces of my shirt. “I can’t wait to taste you.”
His hands make quick work of my clothing, tearing at laces and fabric with an urgency that matches my own.
I reach for him, yanking his shirt over his head, desperate to feel his skin against mine.
There’s nothing slow or careful about our need—it’s raw, primal, a celebration of survival and freedom.
“Been thinking about this all day,” he growls against my throat, teeth grazing sensitive skin as his hands grip my hips. “I need you, my Syrrah. My maiden. My healer.”
I laugh, breathless and wild as I work at the fastenings of his breeches. “Less talking, more action, Captain.”
His eye gleams dangerously. “As you wish.”
In one fluid motion, he spins me around, bending me over his desk.
Maps and navigational tools scatter to the floor as his hands roam possessively over my body.
His touch is fierce but never cruel, demanding but always attuned to my responses.
The cool surface of the wooden desk contrasts with the burning heat of his body pressed against my back, his breath hot against my neck as he whispers praise and promises against my skin.
His fingers trace the curve of my spine, following the path down to where my body rises to meet his.
I feel him hard and ready against me, his control fraying with each passing moment.
When he finally claims me in one powerful thrust, the pleasure is so intense I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out loud enough for the entire crew to hear.
“Mine,” he growls against my ear, his voice a rough caress that sends shivers cascading down my body. “Say it, Syrrah.”
I deny his request, somehow knowing it will drive him wild.
“Syrrah, say it.”
The feeling of him inside me, stretching and filling me completely, steals my breath.
His hands grip my hips with bruising intensity, anchoring me as he establishes a rhythm that speaks of desperation and need.
The desk creaks beneath us, the sound mixing with our ragged breathing and half-stifled moans.
Each powerful thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through me, building higher and more intense with every movement.
His palm meets my bottom, slapping it. The sound is more startling than the intensity.
“Naughty minx.” He bites my earlobe. “Terrible, terrible wife. Tell me you’re mine or I won’t let you finish.”
We move together in perfect synchrony, the rhythm fast and hard and exactly what we both need.
His hand tangles in my hair, pulling just enough to send electricity down my spine, forcing my back to arch at a delicious angle that allows him to reach even deeper.
My fingers grip the edge of the desk for purchase as we chase our release with single-minded intensity.
“Yours,” I gasp as he hits that perfect spot inside me, making stars explode behind my eyes. “I’m yours. And you’re mine.”
His rhythm falters at my words, growing more erratic as we both near the edge.
One of his hands slides around to where our bodies join, finding my clit with unerring precision.
His skilled touch, combined with the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, sends me spiraling into an abyss of pleasure so profound it borders on pain.
I come apart beneath him, waves of ecstasy crashing through me as every muscle in my body tightens around him. He follows me over the edge with a muffled groan against my shoulder, his body shuddering powerfully as he finds his own release.
For several heartbeats, we remain locked together, our bodies slick with sweat, trembling with aftershocks.
The ship rocks gently beneath us, the wooden beams creaking a counterpoint to our gradually slowing breaths.
His weight against my back is comforting rather than crushing, his arms now wrapped protectively around my waist as if he can’t bear to break our connection just yet.
“Look at you,” he rasps in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Such a good girl.”
Before we’ve even caught our breath, he spins me back around, claiming my mouth in a kiss that promises this is only the beginning. I wrap my legs around his waist as he lifts me effortlessly, carrying me to the bed where we collapse in a tangle of limbs and laughter.
“So,” he says, not even bothering to catch his breath, “dragons next?”
I laugh, pushing sweat-dampened hair from my face. “Really? That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”
“I’m thinking of our next adventure.” His fingers trace the curve of my hip, his touch already reigniting the fire between us.
“The Dragon Lords of the Northern Peaks. Crystal Cities where magic and science blend. There’s the Iron Kingdom where a new Queen is overturning old traditions, or the uncharted islands where no Raider has ever set foot.
” His grin turns wicked. “And all the surfaces on this ship we have yet to christen.”
“Insatiable,” I accuse, though I’m already anticipating each embrace.
“Only for you,” he murmurs, his mouth finding a sensitive spot below my ear. “Only ever for you.”
We’re about to lose ourselves in each other again when a thunderous knock rattles the door.
“Captain!” Tahrin’s voice carries an urgency that can’t be ignored. “Mermen approaching!”
Rooke groans, pressing his forehead briefly against mine before springing into action. He dresses with practiced efficiency, buckling his sword belt as I wrap myself in a sheet.
“Mermen?” I ask, excitement quickening my pulse.
His grin is fierce and full of promise. “Welcome to my world, love.” Rooke tosses me my clothes. “Dress quickly. I suspect your talents will be needed on deck.”
“What kind of talent?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.
“Definitely your healing.” He pulls me in for one last searing kiss. “And absolutely your charms. A merman cannot resist an intelligent woman.”
I laugh as I reach for my clothes.
This is what freedom feels like—danger and opportunity in equal measure, with no one dictating which path I must choose.
“Ready?” Rooke asks, hand on the door.
My smile matches his—wild, fearless, alive. “Born ready, Captain.”
As we step onto the deck, the wind in our hair and the taste of each other still on our lips, I know with absolute certainty that I’ve made the right choice. This life—unpredictable, dangerous, and thrilling—is everything I never knew I wanted.
I glance at Rooke and know I’m exactly where I belong.