Treasured (3 page)

*

What game was she playing? The question gnawed at James. Never had his wife been so responsive to his touch. He’d bedded her on their wedding night five years ago, but she’d been a blushing girl and he a randy young pup. In the few weeks she’d been on board, she’d shown nothing but distaste for him, his men, and his way of life. His hackles rose at the cool disdain that always flashed in her brown eyes when she looked at him.

He pitied her, really. Their fathers had arranged their marriage when he was still an upstanding lieutenant in the Queen’s Navy. Much had changed in the five years since they’d wed. He sighed. It was not her fault that the life she’d been promised had dissipated like mist on a hot morning. No, he had chosen his life as a pirate. Chosen to give up his commission and become what and who he was now. Disreputable as he might be, this was the life he wanted.

A small blond head bobbed into his vision. “All hands accounted for, sir. We lost no one. Minor injuries.”

“Carry on, Willy.” He snapped off a sharp nod and the lad scampered away to leave him to his thoughts. He sighed.

When he’d received word that her father had died and her cousin didn’t want her on their family’s plantation, he’d taken
The Fortune
and gone to fetch her. He’d promised his men fat raids on the way and they’d captured a galleon off the coast of St. Augustine. An easy smile pulled at his lips. Yes. That had been quite fun. Though not as enjoyable as it used to be. Some of the novelty of his nefarious life had worn off, but he far preferred it to the dry existence that returning to his plantation on Barbados promised. He’d taken it over when the war had ended and stayed twelve days before he’d gone back to the sea. He knew himself and his proclivities well enough to understand that a staid life would wither his very soul.

“Fine day, innit, Captain?”

One of his men walked by, loaded down with the gold they’d taken from the ship they’d captured. The two exchanged a grin. Boyd had followed him from the Navy to piracy. A crown sat at a jaunty angle on his grizzled head and James bit back a bark of laughter.

“Fine, indeed.”

Boyd cast a significant glance in the direction of the captain’s quarters. “Got a bit adventurous today, did your lady?” The skinny man’s nostrils flared, but he nodded and walked on without another comment. Rebecca had not earned any love from his men in her short stay on
The Fortune
.

After her behavior these last weeks, James was more than willing to relieve himself and his men of her company as soon as humanly possible. With luck and the wind at his back, he had made excellent time back to the West Indies. A few more weeks and he’d deposit the confounded woman so she could live the life she’d always known—mistress of a rich plantation. But she’d be living it alone, thanks be to God.

She made no bones about her desire to get back to land, but he’d be damned if he watched her gloat over getting the better of him. He’d keep that tidbit of information to himself and his men. She’d not find out with the way she’d treated them.

Was her new responsiveness a way to twist him around her finger? She’d soon find she was mistaken. No woman held sway over his attention for more than a few passing moments. Not ever. And he intended for it to remain that way. He lifted his hand to his nose and inhaled deeply. The scent of her wetness still clung to his finger. His cock twitched and hardened at the memory of her hungry gaze staring up at him. Bound. Helpless. At the mercy of his whims. A shudder wracked his body.

If she wanted to play, he’d be more than willing to…educate her on the finer points of his taste. A slow grin pulled at his lips. Yes. This was a little dance he’d be happy to lead her through. And when he grew bored with her…well, there was always Barbados. A chuckle slid from his throat as his hand closed over the door latch. He slipped the key into the lock and twisted.

“Mmph.”

She wriggled on the bed, peeking over a bare shoulder to see him. Relief flashed in her dark gaze. Relief? Did she think he’d give her over to his men for sport? He snorted. Not bloody likely. Whatever he might think of her, she was his wife, and any disrespect to her was a disrespect to him. He dragged in a deep breath and noticed something else different about her. Her scent. The sweet scent of vanilla rose from her body, mixing with the intoxicating smell of her pussy. He clenched his fists to keep from reaching for her and forced himself to look her over at his leisure. There would be time enough to savor her. She was, after all, bound and gagged.

Her soft hair pooled on the coverlet beneath her. Hot desperation shone in her molten eyes. She whimpered as he approached the bed, but not in fear. Her hips undulated on the furs, silently begging him to finish what he had started earlier. She certainly was willing to take this new game of hers to the extreme. It would be unsporting of him not to play along. For as long as it suited him. He let a wolfish grin spread over his face, let his lust show in his eyes. It had been months since he’d had a woman beneath him. He was hungry for what pleasures he could take from her sweet little body.

He couldn’t resist. He stroked his fingers into the downy hair betwixt her legs, fondling the damp lips of her sex.

“Still wet, I see.” An hour had passed since he’d left her here to stew in her own juices. He suppressed a low groan as he stripped away his clothing until he was as naked as she. He wanted inside her. Now. But he would wait. He was the master of himself and his ship. All that surrounded him was his. It was a lesson she was past due in learning.

Her eyes narrowed at him, a direct challenge. She hadn’t yet accepted her place on this ship, but she would. He would dedicate himself to the task. Beginning now. He grasped the protruding length of the candle he’d inserted and pulled it free. She moaned. He slid it back in. She screamed behind the gag, her eyes locking with his. He built a steady tempo, thrust the candle deep inside her. It slid easily in her slick pussy. Her breath rushed from her nostrils in panting bellows. Her teeth clenched on the silk cloth in her mouth and her hips lifted to meet the next push. He watched her shudder, her soft little moans kissing his ears. Her face flushed to a deep red and her hips thrust high and froze as she achieved orgasm. He pressed his thumb to her clit and rubbed hard and fast. Her body twisted on the bed, rolling onto her belly, and her harsh movements wrenched at the silk that bound her.

The silk had abraded the tender skin at her wrists and ankles, and he could still see the redness that marked her ass. He rather liked seeing his mark upon her. She was, after all, his. He turned away to drop the candle to the floor and rummage in one of the many chests that lined his cabin. Ah. There it was. He tugged a glass vial of exotic oil from the East Indies free of its protective wrappings. The pungent spices that scented the oil would cover the light vanilla on her skin. Pity. The scent of her drew him. He’d never noticed it before and lust curled in his gut at the scent now.

Reaching out, he untied the cravat that bound her legs and tipped a measure of oil to pool in his palm. He rubbed the oil into her chafed ankles, massaging the blood back into her calves. He worked up to her thighs. Slowly. She shuddered and arched towards his hands.

“Greedy wench.”

With deliberate care, he avoided the area she wanted him to stroke. She whimpered. He moved to her backside and worked the oils into her curves. He dipped his fingers between the round globes and her body went rigid. He teased the dark pucker of her anus, waiting to see how she’d react. He pressed the tip of his finger in to taunt her, test her, toy with her. How far would she want him to push this game? How much would she take? He sank his finger deep in her sweet ass, working the oils into her until her channel was slick with it. She moaned, lifting her hips into his strokes. He inserted a second finger, widening her. His cock doubled and throbbed at the sounds of pleasure she made. He would take her this way…soon.
Soon
.

Not allowing himself to linger further, he moved to her shoulders. The muscles flexed beneath his fingers. He used one hand to tug at the bindings at the small of her back, releasing her wrists. Before he dropped the cravat onto the floor, he wiped the residual oil from his hands. She sighed as he worked the muscles in her shoulders, rubbing at the tension there. At last, he pulled the gag from her mouth so it fell around her neck.

“James.” Lust knotted his gut at the sound of his name sighing past her lips.

He fitted her back to his front and ran one hand up her torso to cup her breasts. The other hand slipped between her slim thighs. Her fingernails bit into his forearm. A slight sting, but nothing to deter him from his path. Her wet heat coated his fingers as he rubbed her hardened clitoris. She bucked in his arms and her hand slid down to cover his, moving her fingers with his, dipping boldly into her own sex. He groaned.

“I’m going to make you toy with yourself later. But I won’t let you finish.”

“You won’t?”

His fingers moved rough and fast over her swollen flesh. “No. Your pleasure is mine to command, Rebecca. Isn’t it?”

“James—”

He stopped his ministrations. She cried out and arched back into him when he caught her hand in his. “No. You’ll not touch yourself unless I permit it.”

“Please.”

“Say it.”

“I won’t…”

He growled a warning. “Rebecca—”

Her fingers curled around his hand to squeeze tight. “I won’t t-touch myself unless you say so. My p-pleasure is yours. Please, James. Now. Please.”

He’d love to make her wait, but he found he couldn’t. He wanted what she wanted.
Now
. Leaning her forward, he rubbed his swollen shaft between the cheeks of her ass. He wanted her, and he wouldn’t wait any longer. Harsh desperation spurred him on. His hands shook with the anticipation. When had he ever wanted a woman this much? Never. And that the woman he wanted so badly was his wife? He snorted. He’d obviously gone too long without.

He brought the head of his cock to the recess of her anus, still slick with spiced oils. Even then, she was tight and he groaned as the muscles of her ass clenched around his cock. She dropped down to her hands and knees, arching her back to take him deeper. He watched her hands ball in the coverlet. The sound of their mingled breath split the silence in the cabin. He drew back his hand and slapped the fleshy part of her thigh as he pumped into her ass. She screamed, twisting beneath him.

“Yes. James. Yes.”

God, she responded so beautifully, so naturally. If he didn’t know it was staged for manipulation, he wouldn’t have guessed and that angered him. His shoulders tensed and he thrust harder, sped to a punishing rhythm.

“Oh,
God
.” She shoved her hips back, keeping pace with him. “I’m coming, James. I’m coming.”

She was. Her ass fisted on his cock, tighter than before. He thrust deep and froze. His seed jetted from him to fill her. Still, he thrust deep, worked himself inside her until she sobbed his name again.

She curled into a ball next to him and faced away from him. His heart pounded so loud in his ears it took a moment for his head to clear. Her soft breath snuffled and her fingers clamped over her jaw as she attempted to stifle her tears. Panic gripped his gut. Unfamiliar concern welled in his chest. He didn’t deal well with weeping women. He didn’t deal
at all
with weeping women. The majority of his life had been spent on a ship during wartime. Women were meant to slake his lust, not to pass time with.

“Did I hurt you?” He stroked her thick hair away from her face and the scent of vanilla again reached his nose. He swallowed a groan as his cock twitched. God, he should be nearly dead from exhaustion. He schooled himself to remain calm. Her next soft sob cut his desire to nothing. He was a big man, rough. And he’d used her with the carelessness a man would use on a dockside whore. Guilt squeezed his innards. “Rebecca—”

“No. You didn’t hurt me.” Her knees tucked up to her chest and the muscles in her back clenched in a rigid line.

She resisted when he tugged her shoulder to roll her towards him. He snorted. As though he would allow her to hide from him. Scooping his arm under her body, he rolled her around to face him.

“Then why are you crying?”

“I d-don’t know.” Her gaze locked on his chest when he tilted her chin up. She struggled to control her breathing, to stop weeping, but tears leaked from the corner of her eyes.

Her small body shivered in the balmy air surrounding them, and his concern grew tenfold. He hugged her to him, jerking the coverlet over her. Reaching over her, he hooked a finger around the neck of a bottle of good Madeira wine. He flipped the cork out with his thumb and pressed the bottle to her lips. “Drink.”

She took a sip and choked before swallowing hard. “What
is
that stuff?”

He frowned down at her, and lifted the bottle to his nose to take a whiff. No, he hadn’t given her the wrong bottle. “Madeira.”

“It’s…strong.”

“Take another quaff.”

She shook her head, and another shiver wracked her body.

“Come now, Rebecca. It’ll warm you.”

Her teeth chattered together, but she obediently swallowed another sip. She sputtered on the liquid. He set the bottle aside and rubbed his hand up and down her back to warm her. Her hiccuping sobs slowed, and she leaned into his chest. He rolled to his back and hugged her to his side, tucking the coverlet tight around her.

Her cheek rested on his chest, her fingertips drawing patterns on his stomach. Lust trickled through him at her soft touch, but he tried his damnedest to ignore it. He’d ridden her rough this night, rougher than he ever had her or any other lady. He usually kept his dark desires in check with them. He would
try
to be considerate. He used to be good at it, before the war, when he’d laid a thin veneer of civility over his natural ruthlessness. It had made him a good naval officer and an even better pirate.

As though she’d read his thoughts, Rebecca’s sleepy voice sounded soft in the dark of the cabin. “Why did you become a pirate? Was it just for the adventure? Just because your life was so tedious after the war?”