Chapter 27 #2
“The most impractical part is how gorgeous you look,” Nia murmured, low so no one else could hear.
Not her best line, but she was working with a brain absolutely bathed in horny juices and whatever floral perfume Zanta had dabbed on her neck that was now running with sweat down between her breasts.
“You’re driving everyone to distraction.
” She wanted to take Zanta away from their admiring eyes, so that only she could see her like this.
Flushed and breathless with drink and dancing.
Lips parted as if the next thing she’d say would be a declaration.
Zanta’s hand tightened possessively at her waist, as if she could read Nia’s every thought. The setting sun cast warm light across her bare collarbones.
“Did I distract you too?” Zanta whispered.
“Terribly. I hardly ate a bite for wanting to feast on you.”
Zanta leaned in, so close Nia fumbled the steps, and they came to a halt in the crowd of dancers like a lonely island in a raging sea. Nia wanted to stay like this forever. But the ship bore them on toward the Sleeping Isles and their inevitable separation.
Nia should tell her, come clean about her true motive and beg for her treasure. Beg to stay. Zanta had a good heart; she would understand. Wouldn’t she?
Nia’s lips parted around the secret. Her heart beat in her throat, persistent and terrifying. I knew Silver Stroud. His treasure is mine, a part of me. I slept with you to get to it.
But that wasn’t really true, was it?
She swallowed the secret down past her heartbeat, and kissed her. Zanta’s lips immediately parted for her, not knowing she kissed a mouthful of lies. Nia melted into her, wanting all of her. All she could get before everything came crashing down.
They tripped into Nia’s tiny room, music and laughter spilling after them before the door slammed.
Nia barely managed to light a candle before Zanta backed further into the room, drawing Nia after her until her heel caught on the hem of her dress and she tumbled onto the small stack of crates against the wall.
Nia landed atop her, giggling, their voluminous skirts colliding with a soft whump.
Her face landed right in Zanta’s overspilling cleavage, and she buried it deeper into Zanta’s scent, the soft mounds of her breasts squeezing Nia’s cheeks with every inhale.
Zanta’s hands threaded in her hair, and now that they were alone, the truth nipped at the tip of Nia’s tongue again.
But what could she do? Pop up from between her lover’s breasts and say actually I started sleeping with you because I am trying to steal your treasure, but now I actually like you so please don’t throw me overboard?
Zanta would never forgive her. She’d throw Nia off the ship at first opportunity, and Nia would never see Zanta, or Laurent, or her treasure again.
Nia had no desire to cut their already short time together even shorter.
Nor could she risk giving up the chance to get her pelt back.
So she stamped out the words on her tongue against Zanta’s skin, tasted every inch of her.
The candle flame wavered, casting their shadows long across the walls.
Zanta tugged the pins from Nia’s hair till it tumbled down over her face.
She dug her fingers against Nia’s scalp and brought her face up to capture her lips.
Heat purred along Nia’s nerves and she accepted Zanta’s demanding tongue eagerly.
Her knee slotted between Zanta’s thighs, and she rocked forward, the volume of skirts a frustrating barrier between them.
“Get me out of this damn dress,” Zanta panted, unbuckling her sword.
When that clanged to the floor, Nia flipped her onto her stomach, kissing the side of her neck as she frantically unlaced and shucked the shell of stiff fabric from her body.
She made quick work of the stays too. When she flipped Zanta onto her back again, intending to dive beneath Zanta’s chemise and finally get her mouth on her, Zanta buried her hands back in Nia’s hair instead.
“Not so fast.”
A needy whine escaped Nia’s lips, hyperaware of Zanta’s nearness and how much she craved her.
“Let me taste you,” she begged, straining against Zanta’s hand.
“Tell me something first.”
Nia stilled. Did Zanta suspect something? If she did, she had terrible timing. That was the sort of thing you asked after you got off. Or maybe it was the perfect time. Right now, if she asked Nia outright, Nia was afraid she wouldn’t be able to lie.
“Anything.” Nia trailed her lips along the inside of Zanta’s knee, gaze rising to meet hers.
Zanta bit her lip. “Why do you want this? Why do you want me?” A slight, self-conscious tremor edged her voice.
Nia frowned. What did a woman like Zanta have to be self-conscious about?
She was gorgeous, smart, powerful. If the stories sailors told had even an ounce of truth, Zanta could take a ship on her reputation alone with barely a drop of blood shed.
She was dangerous. Feared. But she had a wild joy hidden in her that Nia wanted to taste again.
And she’d been kind enough not to abandon Nia when she’d first come aboard.
How much of that could Nia say? Zanta didn’t want to hear about her sappy feelings. This was just sex. Wasn’t it?
Nia dragged her lips a few inches up Zanta’s thigh until Zanta’s hand stopped her again.
“Nia.”
“You’re beautiful,” Nia breathed, letting a lazy smile spread her lips like she wanted Zanta to spread her legs. “Let me show you how much I want you, birthday girl.”
Something flitted across Zanta’s expression, her hand releasing. Nia slid lower.
“You’re dangerous,” Nia murmured, not breaking eye contact. “You strike fear into any poor sod on these seas.”
“But not you?” Zanta raised an eyebrow, but her breath came quickly, her skin hot beneath Nia’s mouth.
“Not me.” Nia slid the delicate hem of Zanta’s chemise up over her hips, and ran her tongue along Zanta’s skin till she reached the junction of her thighs. “I know how sweet you really are.”
She dove in, desperate to taste her, and couldn’t hold back the wanton moan that escaped when she ran her tongue up Zanta’s moist slit.
Zanta gasped, seeming to forget her questions in favor of arching into Nia’s touch.
Nia hadn’t had more than a few sips of wine with dinner, yet she felt drunk on Zanta’s body as the sweetness burst on her taste buds.
Truly, she could spend the rest of her life worshipping this woman.
But it would end eventually, so she put all that future adoration into this moment.
Nia’s tongue moved as if it had a mind of its own, vehemently lapping at Zanta’s clit, which swelled in response.
Zanta moaned, and Nia’s eyelids fluttered with the pleasure of pleasuring.
She wasn’t usually one to get off on giving pleasure, but with Zanta it was different.
Everything else fell away. Zanta’s reactions were so intoxicating she found herself unable to think of anything but producing the next one.
She pressed her thumb into Zanta’s opening up to the first knuckle, and Zanta bucked against her mouth.
“Please…” Zanta whined. Nia smiled and redoubled her efforts.
Licking, sucking, pressing her thumb deeper and feeling the flooded walls of her insides.
Some dangerous pirate captain she was, if she could come apart so easily in Nia’s hands.
She let Zanta’s melodious moans envelope her in warm pleasure.
She would imprint Zanta’s softness on her tongue to taste for the rest of her life.
Zanta’s moans built till they drowned out the music still filtering through the walls, and Nia lost herself to them.
She feasted upon Zanta’s essence till she really did feel drunk on it.
Maybe that was the lack of air, but Nia didn’t care at all.
She’d die with her face in Zanta’s softness before she gave up on making her sound like that.
She moved her thumb in and out with tantalizing slowness, a direct counteraction to the frenetic movement of her mouth.
And suddenly Zanta’s thighs clapped shut around her head, and Nia could hear nothing as Zanta’s hips pushed deliriously against her tongue, and honey filled Nia’s mouth as Zanta came with a cry that transcended even the flesh clamped around her.
She kept going, unable to resist bringing Zanta back to the edge before she’d even finished her fall.
Burying her face between the velvety petals of Zanta’s body and indulging her tongue’s every whim until Zanta’s legs began to quiver.
In her haze, she felt Zanta’s hand on her head, and finally she pried Zanta’s legs apart and came up for air.
A single drop of liquid dripped off the end of Nia’s chin and plopped onto the crates; she licked her lips.
Zanta lay in a daze, one leg dropped off the edge of the crates and the other still bent and open.
Outside, the party still went on. Nia hoped the crew members Zanta had assigned to keep watch and man the lines had stayed sober in case the Lonesome decided to take advantage of their merriment, otherwise the weapons on everyone’s belts would be utterly useless.
“Are you still alive up there?” Nia giggled. Zanta’s hand fisted in her hair and brought her in for a kiss.
“Very much so,” Zanta panted. Her hand moved from Nia’s hair to the neck of her bodice. “Take this off.”
“I don’t wanna get up,” Nia groaned. “I wanna lay here with you.”
Zanta leaned in close, licking a smear of her own juices from the corner of Nia’s lips. “Take it off, then bring your box of dicks over so I can choose one to fuck you with.”