Rescued by the Buccaneer (14 page)

“Show me,” he said evenly.

“Now?” The apples of her cheeks burned pink.

He propped himself up on an elbow and lazily raised a brow. “No time like the present.”

“But I…”

“Touch yourself,” he growled. “Do it.”

Closing her eyes, she trailed her left hand between her legs. Slowly, she slipped a hand between her legs, delving between the creases of tender flesh.

“Lick your fingers,” he ordered.

She obeyed, sensuously licking and sucking on them, one at a time.

“Now open your eyes and look at me.”

Her lashes fluttered open.

“Fuck yourself. Do it the way you did it before.”

The atmosphere between them was charged, and when she followed his commands, their lust hung heavy in the air.

“Rub your clit,” he said in a husky voice.

She looked uncertain.

“You know what I mean,” he taunted. “That hot little button of yours.”

Biting her lip, she closed her eyes again and rubbed her index finger over the swollen nub.

“Open your eyes!” he snarled.

They flew open, but she protested, “I can’t… but it’s hard to…”

“I know it’s hard. Do it anyway.”

She continued, eyes fixed to his.

Taking in the picture of Frederica pleasing herself at his command made his balls tighten. He watched her, stroking himself, almost getting lost in the moment.

Regaining control, he stopped and pulled her down on top of him, her bountiful breasts jiggling in his face.

“Rub your cunt against me,” he commanded.

She ground her pelvis against his, releasing her inhibitions. He studied her wanton expression as she slid up and down against his rock-hard cock.

Capturing one pert nipple in his mouth, he tortured it with his tongue, then bit her with his teeth. Fondling her other breast, he pulled her to him, desperate to taste her. He entwined his tongue with hers, their ardent kisses further cementing the increasing connection between them.

When she sat back up, he asked, “Have you ever ridden a horse?”

“Yes, why?”

“Take my cock inside you and ride me as you would a horse.”

Closing her fingers around his erection, she positioned her entrance above him and slowly lowered herself down onto him.

“Now move up and down, as if you were posting on your horse.”

She tried it. “Umm, this feels good,” she said, finding a comfortable rhythm.

It had been his intention for her to do the fucking, but he couldn’t help but raise his hips to meet hers. Damn but he loved impaling her on his rod. She felt divine and it gave him a prime view of her beautiful body.

Lips parted, she rocked back and forth above him. The sight of her breasts bouncing in the air excited him, almost as stimulating as the ecstasy on her face. Reaching up, he grabbed her wrists and held them tight.

“Sit up. I want to see all of you,” he said, his voice thick with passion.

She sat poised above him, arms restrained in his hands. She did her best to keep her balance as he thrust into her, filling her with his longing and desire. Old forgotten feelings of sadness and regret—he released those into her as well, as if he could purge himself of the past if he fucked her thoroughly enough.

With a shudder, she climaxed and her body went limp. He fought to hold her up. Picking up the pace, he fucked her harder, faster, forgetting the fact that Frederica had been a virgin just days earlier.

“I love you,” she whispered.

The admission confounded him. He nearly lost his erection, but instead he pushed aside her words and continued to punish her body with his cock, pounding into her until he let go, permeating her with his essence.

Afterwards, they lazed under the shade of the trees, their bodies entangled. Her admission of love niggled him like a splinter under his skin, but he knew he should have expected this. After all, she was a young, impressionable girl, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was playing with fire. The problem was, his feelings for her were growing at breakneck speed and he had no idea how to stop them. Out here, where it was just the two of them, he’d been an abject failure at subduing his affection for her.

Gaston lifted up a long, curly strand of her hair, snarled by a piece of disintegrating ribbon. “I do believe it’s time to get some new ribbons, my dear.”

Her tinkling laughter echoed in his ears.

“I think you’re right.” She ran a hand across his chest adding, “Master.”

He brightened. “Oh, so you’re coming around to my way of thinking, are you?”

She nodded.

Just then, they heard shouting.

Startled, they leapt up and began hastily throwing on their clothes. Gaston had just finished pulling up his britches when two men burst into the clearing.

They each brandished a sword, bright sunlight reflecting off the clashing blades.

Gaston’s heart beat in his throat. The first thing that crossed his mind was that he must protect Frederica at all costs, yet he had no sword and no pistol. The only weapon he had was his knife, and it was fifteen yards away in his boot.

The shorter fellow wore a blue kerchief around his head and while he showed good proficiency with his blade, he’d been put on the defense by his opponent, a giant who towered over him, all ebony skin and white teeth.

“Aha!” another man with a beard ran out of the brush and screaming like a ghoul, headed right for Gaston. The man’s sword sliced the air half an inch from Gaston’s nose.

Gaston dashed for his knife, and Frederica’s bloodcurdling scream rang across the island.

Chapter Fifteen

“Cap’n!”

Frederica looked up to see the incredibly large man, his skin so dark it was almost black, toss a sword to Gaston. The giant then stepped to the side to avoid the slashing sword of the short fellow with the blue scarf.

The giant backed up, offering himself as a target to his opponent.

Just as the short fellow lunged for what looked to be a certainly fatal blow, the giant jumped out of the way, agile as a cat. At the last moment, the short fellow realized his mistake. Unable to stop his forward momentum, he stumbled off the cliff and into the abyss. The gurgling of the river drowned out the sound his landing would have made.

Wearing only her shimmy, Frederica clutched her dress in front of her, anxiously chewing a fingernail, and turned her attention to Gaston.

While the bearded man had surprised Gaston and he’d had no weapon to start with, the giant had thrown Gaston his cutlass. Now it would certainly be a fairer fight.

The sound of metal on metal clanged in her ears. Swords crossed as Gaston deftly wove his way to the edge of the cliff over which the other man had just fallen. Gaston choreographed his swordplay cleverly, attempting to gain an advantage. The two men circled one another, each looking for an opening.

Riveted by the fracas, Frederica found herself caught up in the excitement of the moment. As frightening as it was, she found herself growing even more attracted to Gaston as he battled. His fencing skills were excellent. It hadn’t occurred to her how good he might be with a weapon, but it made sense. After all, he’d been a pirate for many years, so he must know how to fight. And though she quaked at the thought of her almost certain demise in the case that he lost, she also felt a pride in her lover and a stirring in her loins.

So focused was she on Gaston and his battle that she didn’t notice that the giant had disappeared from sight.

Gaston had lured his opponent away from Frederica and towards the cliff, clearly hoping to provide him with the same fate that befell the dark man’s opponent. They parlayed so close to the edge that her gut clenched in fear.

The bearded man hopped to the side, taking the fight back away from the rocky ledge. “I’ll not be dropping to me death, mate,” he sneered.

Then, out of nowhere, an axe spun through the air, flipping end over end at an incredible speed until it landed squarely between the bearded man’s eyes, the blow stopping him in his tracks, felling him like a tree. He lay on the ground, a small hatchet lodged in his skull, the sneer now frozen on his face for eternity. Blood slowly seeped from the wound, covering his head in scarlet.

The circumference of the bloody pool continued to increase around the dead man’s head like a macabre halo. When the metallic smell of blood hit her nostrils, Frederica screamed, though it sounded more like a howl.

A hand clamped down over her mouth, and terror bubbled inside her. Petrified, she bit down on the enormous hand.

“No bite, missy.” A strong voice said, and her captor tightened his grip.

“Let her go, Hatch.” Gaston threw his sword to the ground and hurried to Frederica’s side.

The giant immediately released her.

Puzzled that the brute obeyed his command, she asked in a shrill voice, “You know this man?”

Gaston gave a slight nod. “Frederica, this is Hatch. Hatch, Mademoiselle Frederica Beauchamp.”

Hatch bowed his head in deference. “Pleased to meet missy.”

Frederica’s jaw dropped. She gulped and tried not to flinch as she offered her hand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Hatch,” she managed.

He shook her hand awkwardly. “Just Hatch,” he grunted. Now that he stood in front of her, she could see he was close to seven feet tall. His ebony skin shone as it stretched over his protruding muscles, his physique giving the illusion of having been chiseled from stone. His body was plastered with tattoos, ink covering him from feet to face.

She’d seen men with tattoos before, but never one so completely decorated. If it was Hatch’s intention to intimidate people with his body paint, he was doing a remarkably good job of it.

“Darling, are you alright?” Gaston pulled Frederica into an intimate embrace, his hand stroking her cheek. “It’s alright, they’re dead. No one is going to hurt you.” He hugged her to him tightly.

“I’m alright. Just shaken up.”

Gaston touched her on the chin. “Wait here.” He went to fetch the discarded sword.

Hatch pulled his axe out of the dead man’s head as Frederica looked on, shuddering.

Hatch and Gaston walked further away, then stood conversing in deep, serious voices. Frederica strained to hear them, but the sound of the river eclipsed whatever they were saying. She took a deep breath and attempted to calm herself, for they were safe now. Wild men had randomly attacked them with swords, but she and Gaston were still in one piece.

While the men talked, Frederica finished dressing. In all the commotion, she’d been too frightened to be concerned that she only had time to put on her shimmy before all of the fighting began. Once she was properly attired, she settled herself along the river to have another drink. Making love and almost being murdered had brought on a fierce thirst. After drenching her parched throat, she sat against a tree and waited for the men to finish their discussion.

She must have drifted off because the next thing she knew, Gaston was nudging her awake. “Freddie, let’s go. We need to go with Hatch before we lose any more daylight.” He grabbed her up by the arm and guided her along the path they’d taken earlier that day.

“Where are we going?” she asked, rubbing her sleepy eyes.

“Hatch says there’s a village on the other side of the island. Several hours away. We’ll get something to eat, and you can have a hot bath and maybe a bed to sleep in.”

“You must be joking.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Does that sound like something that might be worth a long walk?” he teased.

She nodded vigorously. “Absolutely!”

Hatch disappeared like a ghost, and Gaston and Frederica began the long trek.

“Where is
he
going?” she asked.

“He’ll go ahead to scout, make sure we don’t have any more unexpected guests jumping out of the trees at us,” he laughed.

“How can you laugh about that?” She punched him on the arm. “We were almost killed. What is wrong with you?”

“Aye, but we weren’t, were we?” he asked nonchalantly.

“But we could have,” she protested.

He shrugged. “A pirate’s life, my dear, is filled with danger. Comes with the territory.”

They walked for several minutes before he softened. “You don’t need to worry, my dear. Hatch is the best man I know to have in a fight, and he’s on our side. And in case you didn’t notice, I’m not so bad myself,” he said, rubbing the back of his hand across his chest in a that-was-nothing gesture.

She rolled her eyes. Modesty was clearly not one of his virtues. Now that she thought about it, what—if any—virtues
did
her dashing pirate have? Bravery and sexiness came to mind. And while sexiness was not exactly a virtue, it was a desirable feature.

“Hatch. What an unusual name. Where did he come from?”

“Hatch is the diminutive of ‘hatchet’. You’ve seen the man’s work. Speaks for itself, doesn’t it?”

She nodded grimly.

“He’s a Maroon, a runaway slave. He’s been a crew member on the
Ocean’s Knave
for many years.”

“Was that your ship?” she asked casually.

“Yes. Still is.”

“I knew it! I knew you were a captain. Why did you lie about it?”

“To save my neck.”

“What do you mean it still is? Where is your ship?”

“Apparently in a harbor nearby being repaired.”

She stopped mid-stride and stamped her foot. “I wish you wouldn’t make me ask all these questions! Why don’t you tell me what is afoot?”

He chuckled at her frustration, which only added to it. “Alright. A few weeks ago the
Ocean’s Knave
was attacked by a Spanish war ship. We were laden down with treasure, which made it almost impossible for us to outrun her. During the battle, I jumped overboard to avoid a canon blast. They took out our rudder with their guns. I used the remains of the rudder as a flotation device and drifted with the tides. Without a rudder, the crew was unable to steer the ship well enough to go after me.”

“Did they win? The battle with the Spanish?”

“Of course.”

“Oh. What happened to your ship?”

“The crew was able to get it into port. They’ve been working on repairs. Sounds as if she’ll be seaworthy in a matter of days.”