Chapter 24
The wooden dick hit Nia’s leg for what felt like the twentieth time in as many minutes.
She wiggled, trying to subtly adjust the straps that encircled her hips and thighs.
She couldn’t fathom how men dealt with this shit all day, every day.
Especially in pants. She felt like she was constantly adjusting herself.
“Something wrong?” Laurent asked. He seemed to be focusing on mincing an absolutely massive pile of garlic, but from his smile, she knew he’d seen at least some of the little adjustment jig she’d been doing every few minutes since she’d gotten dressed this morning.
“Peachy,” Nia answered, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. Laurent went on mincing his garlic, but the smile didn’t falter.
“You and the captain seem to be back on good terms.”
Nia adjusted again. Truly, she was beginning to understand why men were how they were, and this equipment didn’t even include balls. Gods, she couldn’t even imagine what it would be like if she had balls.
“We are,” she answered after a minute, refocusing on her own task, peeling some slightly mushy carrots.
“Is there romance on the horizon?”
“Not likely,” Nia muttered, brushing a pile of carrot peels to the side. Laurent shot her a sympathetic look.
“She told you about Emilie.” It was a statement, not a question.
“She told me some.” It wasn’t that Nia necessarily wanted romance.
It would only make her feel worse when she ultimately absconded with her treasure.
If she was honest with herself, she was a little peeved that Zanta had agreed to her “only sex” proposal so readily.
She understood, really, but that didn’t make it better.
Gaining her trust would have made finding the treasure easier, but all Nia needed was a short stretch—or several—of uninterrupted access to Zanta’s room.
She was confident she could accomplish that through sex alone.
So why was she so annoyed?
Laurent’s knife scraped across the cutting board. “So are you going to tell me what you’ve got under your skirt?”
“Why, Laurent, I didn’t think you were interested in the contents of women’s skirts,” Nia quipped, unable to keep a smile from cracking through her annoyed gloom.
Laurent smiled back, wide enough that the deep lines of all his past smiles formed in his cheeks. “Usually you’d be right, but you seem to have something extra going on right now.”
Damn, she shouldn’t have fidgeted so much.
“You can’t tell anyone.”
“Oh, my lips are more sealed than the hull of this ship.” His eyes sparkled with anticipation.
Nia glanced at the galley door, firmly closed. “Okay, fine.”
Laurent set the knife down, awaiting whatever Nia would show him like a kid with his hand out for a sweet.
With another glance at the door, Nia quickly lifted her layers of skirts to reveal the velvet straps and the hard wooden cock hanging down between her legs.
Laurent whistled, impressed, and crouched down to get a look at it head-on.
“If anyone could change my allegiances, Nia, it’s you and that impressive piece.” He looked up at her. “Where’d you get it? Do they take commissions?”
“A friend gave it to me.” Nia’s face warmed. Every time she’d ever internally or externally judged a partner’s manhood flashed before her eyes.
“Some friend,” Laurent chuckled. “Did he model it after himself?”
“It’s a set. The one he modeled after himself is huge,” Nia answered, pleased as if she’d grown it herself. She was starting to understand why some men had such an ego on them.
“I’d love to see that.” Laurent’s eyes were wide.
“I’m having a little trouble adjusting,” Nia admitted sheepishly.
“Well, usually we aren’t walking around with a raging hard on between our legs.” Laurent laughed. “I’m typically quite soft while chopping garlic.”
The door opening interrupted Nia’s laugh. Panicked, she threw her skirts back down, accidentally covering Laurent’s head in the process. He yelped, fighting his way out just as Zanta stepped into the galley.
“What are you two troublemakers up to?” Zanta eyed them as Laurent scrambled to his feet and smoothed down his curls, looking like a disheveled owl.
“Just rebuckling the princess’s shoe,” he answered casually. “You know her dedication to impracticality.”
“A dedication that rivals your own, I think,” Zanta laughed.
“Fair enough. What can we help you with, Captain? Care for a carrot?” Laurent asked. Nia wanted to kick him in the shin.
Zanta cleared her throat, suddenly looking awkward. “I heard Nia wanted to speak to me.”
Laurent glanced between them, fighting a knowing smile. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He swept out of the room, winking behind Zanta’s back as he closed the door. Oh, he was never going to shut up about this. She should’ve denied everything.
“What did you want to talk about?” Zanta asked. Nia shifted from one foot to the other, the wooden dick hitting her thigh like the clapper of a bell. Wearing it was all well and good, but she’d neglected to actually think of a plan of seduction.
Nia cleared her throat—wonderful, that was attractive—then put on her widest, most honeyed smile.
“Have you given any thought to my proposition?” she asked innocently, as if the proposition in question was merely a potential menu for dinner, and not an agreement to sleep together, upon which Nia’s entire plan hinged.
Zanta raised one manicured eyebrow. “This is what you pulled me away from my duties for?”
This wasn’t going well. Nia had to lay on the charm, convince Zanta to sleep with her. But the galley workbench separated them, with its piles of garlic and carrots. And Nia didn’t think she could accomplish anything close to a seductive walk with the extra equipment she was packing.
“Why? Were you doing something important?” Nia leaned forward against the workbench, making sure Zanta had a nice line of sight down the front of her dress.
“Besides captaining the ship? There’s only the matter of those mercenaries still after us.”
Right, the mercenaries who were trying to kill them. What a cockblock.
“Yet you still came down here to see me,” Nia pointed out, hiding the little bit of pathetic hopefulness that slipped into her voice behind a sultry tone.
Zanta moved a few steps closer, and Nia didn’t miss how her dark eyes flicked down to Nia’s décolletage.
“I did,” Zanta agreed.
“And?”
Zanta brushed the back of Nia’s hand with her fingertips.
“I’ve thought about it.”
“Aaaand?” Nia’s hands itched with impatience to touch her. Their eyes met again.
“I’ve been thinking about it. That night. Touching you.” A faint smile played on her lips, and suddenly all Nia could think of was pulling her against the workbench and kissing her until they both drowned in it. Instead, she held her breath.
“I want you to know, I still love Emilie,” Zanta said, her fingertips trailing up the inside of Nia’s wrist. “But I really can’t stop thinking about you, and…did you mean what you said? That it can just be sex?”
Nia’s heartbeat stuttered, and she hoped to the gods Zanta couldn’t feel it.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“Good.” Zanta’s hand curled around the back of Nia’s neck and pulled her into a kiss across the workbench, just like Nia had imagined a moment before. The wooden dick hit the side of the bench with a faint knock. Zanta flinched, releasing her.
“What was that?” She glanced behind her, but the door remained closed.
“Come on.” They couldn’t do anything out here, where anyone could walk through the door.
And she didn’t know whether Laurent would deign to run interference for them, or cackle gleefully as he allowed any or everyone to barge in.
Nia grabbed Zanta’s hand and pulled her into the pantry.
Her lips were on Zanta’s the moment the door slammed behind them.
Lantern light poured through the door slats, striping gold across Zanta’s bare arms, the sides of her neck and cheeks.
All the places Nia wanted to kiss. And she did.
She backed Zanta against the door, light bending around her curves, and explored every inch of skin with her mouth.
Zanta arched into it, a soft gasp escaping her lips even as she clutched Nia closer.
Too late, Nia realized she should’ve used this opportunity to gain entry to the captain’s quarters.
That was much more private than this damn pantry.
She’d been so focused on bedding Zanta again she’d forgotten the part about the actual bed.
No matter, it was a process. The longer it took, the more times she’d get to taste Zanta.
Nia tugged at Zanta’s hair, tilting her head to gain better access to her neck, her delectable collarbone straight as an arrow.
Her skin tasted faintly of sweat and some herbal perfume or oil, the scent pooling in the dip between collarbone and shoulder.
Nia dragged her tongue across it, eliciting a soft moan.
Zanta’s arms came to rest around Nia’s waist, pulling her closer.
Her thick thigh slotted between Nia’s legs, bumping the wooden cock.
They both froze.
“What’s this?” Zanta arched a brow, barely visible in the low light. “Did you grow a dick since last time?”
“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” Nia purred.
Zanta pressed her thigh a little harder. “Feels like you’re happy to see me,” she mused.
“Very.”
“Have you been walking around with this all day hoping to run into me?”
“I guess skirts are good for something after all.” Nia was glad for the low light hiding most of her blush. She’d known if she got her way Zanta would put that little tidbit together, but it was still embarrassing to be caught wanting. Preparing.
Zanta laughed. “I guess so.” Her hands trailed down to Nia’s hips, her full lips grazing Nia’s ear. “Are you going to show me your little secret, Nia?”