Chapter 24 #2
Nia’s breath caught, for a split second thinking Zanta knew everything. That she was after the treasure. That she—Zanta’s thigh rubbed suggestively between her legs again, and Nia snapped back to logic. Zanta was only talking about the dick. Nia’s relief came out in a quiet sigh.
“I don’t know,” Nia teased. “It’s not so little. What I’ve got under there is quite impressive. Masterfully crafted. I’m not entirely sure you can handle it.” If she’d worn John’s cock, that might have been true, but she’d picked one of the middle ones for today.
Zanta took Nia’s chin between her fingers, eyes roving from her flushed face down her body and back up again. Her thumb grazed Nia’s lower lip. “If it’s as finely crafted as the rest of you, I can’t wait to get my hands on it.”
She pushed Nia deeper into the pantry, pressing her back to the packed shelves, and kissed down her neck to the swelling tops of her breasts, unfastening the front of her bodice as she went.
Nia’s breath quickened, Zanta’s mouth leaving little burning embers on her skin.
Zanta’s hands slipped beneath the stiff leaves of Nia’s open bodice to frame her waist again, her leg slotting back between Nia’s.
Nia rocked her hips forward, rutting on Zanta’s muscled thigh.
Zanta’s lips grazed the skin at the low neck of Nia’s chemise.
Kissing from one freckled constellation to the next.
Nia’s nipples hardened beneath the fabric, the friction of Zanta’s thigh between her legs sending warm tingles rushing through her.
Zanta thumbed one nipple through the fabric, her other hand hitching Nia’s leg up around Zanta’s hip, gripping her ample buttocks through her skirts.
“Zanta,” Nia gasped, rocking forward again, the cock trapped between their bellies.
Even with the layers of skirt, she could get off just by grinding on Zanta’s thigh like this.
But Zanta had other ideas. She pulled open the ribbon at the neck of Nia’s chemise to expose the rosy buds of her nipples.
Nia arched encouragingly toward her mouth, and Zanta suckled at her breast.
A little whimper of a moan escaped Nia’s lips as tingles shot through her body, her hips continuously grinding. Zanta met her movements. She hitched up Nia’s skirt, fingers finding the first velvet strap banding Nia’s thigh.
“You came prepared,” Zanta murmured between her breasts. Then, realizing what she’d said, jerked back to look up into Nia’s face. “Wait. Did you…Is this what was in the package from Logan?”
“I didn’t conjure it out of thin air.” Nia laughed at the bafflement that stole across Zanta’s expression. Where else would she have gotten it? She’d come onto this ship with nothing but the box and the clothes on her back.
“But he…I mean, he looks so…” Another realization dawned. “Did you fuck Logan Crowder?”
Nia giggled again. Despite being second in command to one of the most notorious pirates in the Islands, Logan did indeed look like he’d never used his cock for anything especially interesting.
It was part of his appeal, really. Nia never could resist training up an innocent man.
Corrupting him just enough to get the job done while still being wide-eyed and malleable.
Zanta wasn’t like that. She knew herself, and she definitely knew what she was doing.
“I may have,” Nia admitted, hoping it wouldn’t put Zanta off.
Zanta peered at Nia’s skirts, concentrated bafflement on her face as if she could see through the layers of fabric to the appendage beneath. “Does that mean it’s his…”
Nia laughed again. “No, no. I chose one of the others for today.”
“Others?”
“There are four.” Eventually she’d have to admit to Zanta that one of them was John’s, in case she wasn’t partial to him.
“Four!” Zanta laughed, hand tugging on the strap. “You get up to a lot of mischief, don’t you.”
“Not as much as a literal pirate,” Nia huffed.
“Oh, you don’t yet know the level of mischief I can get up to.” Zanta trapped her gaze, eyes sparkling, as she lowered slowly to her knees. Her hand slipped up the back of Nia’s thigh, coming to rest on the bottom curve of her ass. “Turn around.”
Nia did, and nearly yelped when Zanta hiked her skirts up around her waist. Then actually did yelp when Zanta discovered she wasn’t wearing anything but the strap underneath, and nipped her ass cheek.
“What are you—” A shiver raced up Nia’s spine as Zanta’s breath wafted hot against her exposed skin.
Zanta pulled her hips back so she had to bend forward, bracing against a shelf laden with jars of preserved vegetables.
Zanta wasted no time. Zanta gently separated Nia’s cheeks to gain better access.
Her tongue found Nia’s clit, licking into Nia’s wetness.
Nia gasped, clutching the shelf tighter as heat pooled low in her abdomen.
Nia may have been the one planning this, but Zanta knew damn well how to please a woman.
Nia had a hard time believing it had been—how long did Zanta say?
—five years since she’d slept with a woman.
Her skills certainly hadn’t gone rusty in that time.
A particularly expert flick had Nia rutting her hips back, moaning against the jars.
A pantry, even well-kept as it was, wasn’t the most dignified place to get eaten out.
But, well, it was far from the worst place Nia had ever fucked either.
She closed her eyes. Focused on the heated pleasure quickly building toward a crescendo.
Zanta hummed, pleased, her tongue dipping shallowly into Nia’s entrance before resuming its delicious drag against Nia’s clit.
“Zanta…” Nia moaned. Wetness dripped down her thighs. Zanta hummed again in response and redoubled her efforts, reaching a pattern and speed that had Nia breathless, breasts heaving, hips rolling back of their own volition.
“Zanta…Zanta…” She didn’t care if anyone happened to hear. What business was it of theirs where their captain took her pleasure? She had nothing to be ashamed of. Not yet.
Nia tasted metal. She’d bit down on the little brass bar that held the shelves’ contents during rough seas.
It felt cold on her lips, pressing down on her tongue.
It did nothing but turn her moans of Zanta’s name wordless as pleasure gushed through her like a flash flood.
With one final shudder, one more rut against Zanta’s face, she cried out, the bar digging into her mouth like a bit, and came.
Zanta’s hands tightened on her, digging into pliant flesh, but she did not slow her pace as euphoria had Nia’s eyes rolling back. Zanta lapped up the juices gushing against her mouth and kept on till the aftershocks began to ramp up and Nia’s knees threatened to give out.
Nia released the bar, metal tang still coating her tongue, and reached back to tap the side of Zanta’s head.
“Stop, stop,” she gasped. Zanta pulled back, and Nia whirled to face her, almost sinking to the floor on quivering legs. Zanta stood, catching her around the waist.
Zanta blinked at her with those wide brown eyes, Nia’s wetness slicking her lips, her chin, running shiny streaks down the planes of her throat…
“Why’d you stop me?” Zanta’s tongue darted out to taste Nia on her lips. Gods, had there ever been a woman as rawly sexy as her? Nia had never met one.
“You can’t just keep going till I’m a quivering heap,” Nia said between heavy breaths. She didn’t miss the gleam that entered Zanta’s eye. The defiance that said, why not?
Zanta leaned forward, bringing her face close to Nia’s. “What if I like you that way? You’d make quite the attractive heap.”
“I have to preserve some energy for you,” Nia laughed. “How am I to ravish you among these lovely sacks of potatoes if my legs no longer have feeling?”
Zanta grinned, the wetness on her cheeks shining against the bands of light.
It was almost a relief, teasing like this.
Grinning, laughing in an interlude to pleasure.
Nia was a natural flirt, but finding partners at the inn, bedding them and never seeing them again, lacked a certain intimate joy.
No matter the flirtatious giggles at the beginning, most strangers turned serious once sex was imminent, and while that was satisfying, well, it wasn’t this.
The quivering in Nia’s legs lessened, her breath evening out. She reached out to grasp Zanta’s chin, fingers on one side, thumb on the other, and drew her closer till she could smell her own sweetness on Zanta’s skin.
“We’ll see who’s a heap when I’m done with you.”
A silly thing to say, but Zanta’s pupils dilated, her breath hitching ever so slightly.
Nia kissed her, relishing the taste of her own release on Zanta’s tongue.
Her skirts rustled as she leaned closer.
Zanta tugged at the ties, and before long, Nia shed the layers and stood in only her chemise, open over her breasts.
The wooden cock peeked out beneath the hem.
She’d always thought men looked silly wearing only a shirt with their dicks hanging out like a little turtle head poking out from its shell, and suffered a flash of self-consciousness. But Zanta gasped upon seeing it.
“A fine specimen indeed.” Her hand closed around it like Nia could feel it. Like she was imagining it inside her. Nia reached down to adjust the straps so it stood at attention. Zanta remained fully clothed. That wouldn’t do.
Need pushed away the last of Nia’s hazy afterglow. A need to touch every inch of Zanta’s warm skin. To burrow into her. To make her call Nia’s name and keep her coming back again and again.
Nia stripped away Zanta’s shirt, her lips following the departure of fabric. Beneath, Zanta’s breasts were bound in a bandeau, swelling over the top edge of the fabric with every breath. Nia tugged it down around her waist, mouthing at the velvety swell. Her tongue finally found a pert nipple.
Zanta gasped, fingers tightening in the straps at Nia’s waist. Her head tilted forward, face shadowed by the puff of her hair.