Chapter 11 #2
“Oh my.” Nia’s fingertips fluttered delicately to her chest in faux shock, as if she hadn’t just stripped to her skivvies in front of Zanta to rile her up.
She turned to give Zanta a full view of her round rear straining the fabric.
“I fear it will cause a riot if your men catch sight of my ass in these.”
This seemed to break Zanta from her spell. She snorted.
“Hardly.”
Nia let her eyes go wide and innocent. “No? Is there something wrong with it?”
Zanta rolled her eyes. “Has your ass caused riots before?”
“I wouldn’t know.” Nia sniffed. “It’s always behind me.”
Zanta threw her head back and laughed. The kind of full-throated, uninhibited cackle that ripped out when shocked into laughter. The red and orange glass beads in her small braids clinked together, and the fading light refracting through the deck prisms played off the curves of her bare throat.
Fuck it. No use delaying her plans till she was done searching the ship. It always helped to have a backup plan. Nia closed the remaining distance between them, pulled Zanta flush to her half-undressed body and kissed her full on the mouth.
Zanta’s laugh cut off abruptly as their lips met, and Nia found herself mourning the loss of it even as Zanta’s plush lips parted in a faint gasp, allowing Nia’s tongue to slip inside.
Zanta melted into her embrace, eyelids fluttering closed.
Her lips were soft, though slightly chapped from the wind and sea air, and the interior of her mouth still tasted of the warm and heady spices of dinner.
Nia backed her against the wall opposite the open chests and tilted her head to deepen the kiss, her arm tightening around Zanta’s waist. Arousal kindled deep in Nia’s core, and her hand traced up the side of Zanta’s waist to cup her face.
Zanta jolted and pushed her away forcefully, holding her at arm’s length by the shoulders. Nia felt the loss of her warm lips like a sudden plunge into cold water after a fleeting moment in the sun. Zanta’s eyes were wide, shocked.
“Sorry, I…” Zanta snatched her hands back and rushed from the room, slamming the door behind her.
All Nia could do was stand there. Bewildered. Had she misread Zanta’s attraction to her? Or pushed too far too fast? Zanta had returned her kiss at first, so what went wrong? Nia touched her fingertips to her lips, the warm pressure of Zanta’s mouth still lingering, arousal simmering in her gut.
Fuck. Nia dragged her palm across her mouth, as if to scrub the feel of Zanta’s lips away. She had to be smart about this. If Zanta was willing to flirt but got cold feet in the face of something actually happening, Nia would just have to slow the pace. Draw her out.
That is, if Zanta was still inclined to keep her aboard. She might just decide to drop her at a remote village after all, for her indiscretions.
She grabbed the drab blouse from the wardrobe and pulled it on over her head, then gathered her own dress and the blue one and crept down the hall to her room.
She really should go back and help Laurent clean up after dinner, but she suspected her cheeks were red, and she couldn’t face any of Laurent’s teasing right now.
Nia pulled the blouse off and struggled out of the tight trousers, intending to change back into her own dress.
But her gaze slid to the wooden box carved with peach blossoms. Her belly clenched as she remembered the four objects contained within, and the heat in her cheeks deepened.
She hadn’t had the time or energy to try them yet.
Nia glanced back at the closed door. There was no use going back to the galley, and no one would come looking for her now that it was almost dark.
She picked up the wedge of wood she’d been using as a lock and shoved it into the crack beneath the door.
What better way to silence her worries than some sensual relief?
She ran her fingertips over the wooden blossoms and undid the latch.
The four gleaming wooden cocks sat nestled in their bed of peach velvet.
Inviting and just begging to be used. Her mouth practically watered as she ran her fingers down the thick girth of the replica of John’s cock.
Then on to the others, finally ending with Logan’s, slightly curved and the perfect size to take the edge off.
Anticipation building, Nia stripped down to her chemise. With only a swinging hammock instead of a bed, Nia took the box and knelt on the floor. She opened the compartment in the lid, finding the velvet straps and a small bottle of the coconut-scented lube that was favored throughout the Islands.
“How thoughtful,” Nia murmured to herself, a flush of fondness for the two men warming her. Her offhand comment about missing them at the end of their weeklong romp last autumn had apparently inspired them.
After a brief struggle, Nia managed to fit the wooden cock into the appropriately sized ring and secured the straps around her ankles so that the cock pointed upward. All she would have to do was settle back on her heels for it to penetrate her.
Instead Nia leaned forward and braced one hand against the crates.
Her other hand slipped down between her thighs.
She was already wet from the kiss with Zanta and the anticipation of new pleasure awaiting her on that gleaming wooden shaft.
She found her clit within the wet folds and circled it with soft fingertips.
Slowly building up little waves of pleasure.
Juices slicking her fingers. Nia closed her eyes, sifting through mental images of her conquests, particularly Logan, with his cherubic face and blond curls.
She wasn’t usually one to pleasure herself—having a preference for penetration and no shortage of partners enthusiastic to fulfill her needs—but her fingers quickly found their own rhythm, stroking and teasing and waking up her nerve endings till she was wet and primed.
Soft waves of pleasure lapped at her skin.
Without stopping, she uncorked the vial of lube with her other hand and leaned back to drizzle it over the head of the waiting shaft.
Her fingers picked up their pace as memories of her one night alone with Logan flashed before her eyes.
How he had suddenly become shy again without John there.
How he had made her come three times on his tongue alone before she’d become desperate enough to pin him to the bed and impale herself on his leaking member without protection, his slight curve hitting all the right places, and riding him until he was a moaning and whimpering mess.
She kissed him to stifle the moans, tasting her own juices slicking his lips.
Only when he was about to come did he take charge and flip her onto her back, tongue bringing her to completion once again as his seed safely spurted across the sheets.
Now it was Nia who moaned desperately, rocking back against the wet head of the dildo, the movement of her fingers now sloppy and desperate. She wished they were Logan’s shy tongue instead. She groaned in frustration, and abandoned her clit to reach back and position the dildo at her entrance.
Bracing one hand against the crate and guiding the dildo with the other, Nia slowly sank down to impale herself on the wooden member.
She groaned as the rounded head penetrated and the shaft slid against her slick walls.
It was less pliant than the real thing, so she went slow, missing the warmth of real cock, and the buck of hips between her thighs.
But ultimately it didn’t matter. With every hard inch that slid into her, her frustration floated further away.
Her legs shuddered as her ass hit her heels and she was fully seated on the hard length, her slick insides clenching around the smooth surface.
Nia’s fingers moved to frame the place where it penetrated her then flicked over her clit again.
Her hips stuttered as pleasure climbed up her spine, aided now by the girth filling her.
She gripped the edge of the crate harder to steady herself and rose slowly up on her knees, feeling every smooth ridge of carved vein as the polished wood slid against her insides.
Fuck, it was good. Not as good as a real, living and breathing partner, but delicious all the same.
Nia stopped when only the tip remained inside, her fingers still circling her clit faster and faster.
She knew she should be gentle. She wasn’t used to using toys on herself, but her nerves were already flushed with pleasure and excitement.
She sank back down quickly, a breathy moan escaping as the curve hit her just right.
She set a quick pace, riding the wooden cock with images of riding Logan flashing behind her eyelids. The way he’d whimpered and bucked beneath her, his cheeks and chin still wet from her.
Nia brought her fingers to her mouth, sucking her own sweet and bitter juices from them as if she was tasting them from his lips.
She rolled her hips down harder, taking the replica of his cock as deep as possible with every stroke.
Her thighs burned with the movement. Euphoria shone through her body like sunlight, and it was not images of Logan or John or one of her many other conquests that came to her mind’s eye now, but Splinter Zanta.
Zanta’s warm lips on hers. Zanta spread out on a bed beneath her, perky breasts bouncing as Nia fucked her with her fingers…
A plaintive moan escaped Nia’s mouth, pleasure rising like the morning sun and scouring away everything but the rapture of that hard length pumping in and out of her and the heady visions of Zanta coming on her fingers.
Nia would make Zanta hers. Taste Zanta’s sweet nectar and give her pleasures she wouldn’t soon forget. At least until Nia found her treasure.