“Is this what you want?” His breath tickles against my thigh, and my belly tightens at the anticipation of his mouth higher up.
“Yes,” I whisper, running my fingers through his soft hair. It’s dark brown now, but I briefly wonder what the true color is under the black walnut paste Lyra applied.
All thoughts of hair color evaporate when his hot mouth reaches the apex between my thighs, and his tongue caresses between them. I moan, letting my head tip back, and pull at his hair, grinding against his mouth. He grabs my hips, pulling me toward him, increasing the friction as I move. Gripping the edge of the table with one hand, I feel myself nearing my release, and press him closer.
“Please, don’t stop.” The words come out as a plea.
He obliges, alternating between sucking the bundle of nerves and running his tongue against me.
“Oh, Goddess!” I moan, arching my back as I come against his mouth, still gripping his hair in one hand while I shudder against him.
When I release my hold, his dark hair is in disarray and he wears a smug masculine look when he glances up at me. He still kneels in front of me, as if waiting for further instructions. The sight unleashes me – I run my fingers through his hair and pull him up. Our mouths meet, and I feel his lips part to welcome my tongue against his, the heat between us making me melt against his hard body. My taste lingers on his mouth and it makes me smile, it’s as if I have marked him as mine in some way. With a wicked grin, I pull away to run my hands down his chest and stomach over the fabric of his shirt, inching closer to his erection pressed between us.
“Your turn,” I whisper against his neck before rising from the table, then slowly dropping to my knees.
I deftly unbutton him and release his cock from his pants. He groans as I kiss him low on his belly and grip him in my hand. Glancing up through my lashes, I slide my mouth over him as I keep working him with my hand. He firmly guides my motions with his fingers twined in my hair, and I match his request, sliding him all the way to the back of my throat; his moans of pleasure and breathy curses reward my actions. I increase the speed, slipping him in and out of my wet mouth until his hands grip my shoulders roughly and pull me to my feet.
“Not yet,” he says breathily, sweeping my feet out from under me and carrying me to the bed. He swiftly removes his shirt, and kicks out of his boots and pants, while I pull my shirt over my head. Arching my back, I recline against the plush pillows on his bed, exposed fully to him with my loose hair spread around me. For the first time in a long time, I feel pride in my nakedness and an ache of longing for the man I am bared to.
“You’re beautiful,” he states, sharp green eyes taking in every inch of me.
“You are well-versed in what women love to hear.” I arch my back more, running my hands over myself seductively. I wish I had it in me to accept the compliment outright, but I can’t fully let go of the armor I have worn for so long.
“No. You are beautiful, Nerissa.” He strides to the bed and presses me into the soft mattress and coverlet with a kiss.
Tired of fighting against what my body and heart want, I relent, throwing caution to the wind as I wrap my arms around his neck and return his kiss with everything I have. At the end of this voyage, I know I will likely be lost and alone again, but, for tonight, I can pretend that he’s truly mine, and I am his. Not just because he bought me for the novelty of laying with a priestess, but because he wants me.
He deepens the embrace, tongue meeting mine, and settles between my thighs. I raise my hips in response and he pushes himself up on his forearms to look me in the eyes before entering me. Even though it has only been a day since our last joining, the sensation of him filling me pulls a gasp from my lips. I haul him back to my mouth for another hungry kiss as we begin to move together.
This time, we aren’t hurried. There is no punishing pace. Our bodies move in tune, and the friction coils in my core with each deep kiss and deeper thrust. Lennox kisses down my neck, sucking at the place where it meets my shoulder, wringing a moan of pleasure from me at the sensation. I grip his shoulders as I near my release a second time, and when I come, I call out his true name. He finishes close behind me, crying out against my mouth, kissing me deeply.
He rolls off of me, and we lay side by side for a few moments, catching our breath. As our panting evens out, he inches his hand close to mine over the coverlet, our fingertips delicately brushing one another almost shyly despite what we have just shared. As he lifts my hand into his own, little shocks tingle where our skin meets. When I look over at him, he is studying my face with a furrowed brow until our eyes meet and he gifts me a small, bashful smile.
Chapter 16
Over the next days, as we leave Selennia further in the distance, my life falls into a comfortable routine. My days are still spent in the surgery, tending to injuries and illnesses; the crew seems to be more at ease around me now that their secrets are in the open. In turn, I relax in their presence, feeling safe with the men I now know willingly work alongside women.
While some meals are spent dining with Lyra and Charlie, I often slip into the Captain’s cabin, sharing dinner, heated glances, and easy conversations about books or the many places he has visited. As for my nights – I take advantage of Lennox’s passionate kisses and skills in bed, readily sleeping curled in his comforting arms after.
We rarely mention our agreement or the end of the voyage, and never discuss emotions, but being in his presence no longer makes me anxious, except when I think of what comes next. Logically, I know I’m becoming more attached to him than I should allow myself, but after feeling alone for so long I can’t seem to make my heart understand that.
One morning, I awake to find that I’m alone in the large feather bed, the protective warmth I’ve quickly become accustomed to is missing from my side. Daylight streams through the windows along the stern, and my eyes squint at the bright sunlight. Once they adjust, I pull my discarded shirt over my head and stretch before looking out at the sea. Since I’m alone, I also take the time to wander about the cabin, openly admiring the collection of books on the desk, piled alongside rolled maps of places I’ve never seen.
It still amuses me that I caught him reading a romantic text the first time I woke by his side, but I have since learned that he has a wide variety of books, so I’ve yet to ask him about that particular title. He has never said how he came by so many of these, but I assume they are stolen goods from prior pirate raids as so much of his cabin’s finery is.
My hands run across the leather-bound tomes, eyeing the other contents of his desk. Amongst the books and maps is a crystal inkwell, quill, and a journal with notes about the voyage. Before I can sate my curiosity by peeking at the contents of the ledger, the door swings wide. Lennox bursts into the room startling me so badly that I jerk my hand away from the desk.
“Get dressed, quickly!” he commands.
Gone is the gentle lover from previous nights. This morning, he is the consummate pirate lord, no longer dressed in elegant wool and clean linen that could be mistaken for gentlemen’s attire. He now stands before me in a long weathered leather coat and pants, and a faded black shirt with a gleam of violence in his eyes. My mind races through possibilities of what could be happening on deck for him to speak so brusquely. His mouth is a hard line and there is a nervous, angry tension surrounding him like I’ve never seen. As I dash to grab the trousers I wore the previous evening, he rapidly loads a second pistol, grabs his cutlass, and sheathes a shorter knife in his boot.
“What’s happening?” I ask as I tuck my shirt in and braid my loose hair back, wrapping the thick plait into a messy knot at my neck.
“There’s a ship on the horizon. We’re going to raise the flag and send a warning shot soon, then prepare to board,” he answers matter-of-factly.
When his eyes drift back to my face, I know I can’t hide the way the blood has surely leached from my face at the mention of another ship. If we are captured, Lyra and I will no longer have any protection from a strange crew. His brow draws down as he paces toward me, sensing my fear, and his demeanor softens as he approaches me.
“Don’t worry,” he assures me, touching my cheek, “they’ll know who hails them, and they almost always surrender. It isn’t worth a battle with me or my crew.”