Erotica Ebooks: Free ebook sample of "A Matter of Honor" by Kit Tunstall

Blurb:

Lady Rebecca Stanhope thumbs her nose at society dictates in regards to finding a suitable husband by stepping in for her father to deliver a shipment to the Colonies after he is killed over a gaming debt. When pirates overtake their ship, Rebecca makes a bargain with their captain. The pirate stipulates that as well as cooperation from the crew, the entire cargo, and a costly diamond necklace, Rebecca must surrender her virtue to him too...

Part 1: Claiming The Maiden

Chapter 1

1815, Atlantic Ocean

“I do not think this is wise, m'lady.”

Rebecca sighed. “As you have said fifty times in as many days, Nora.”

“Your father would not have wanted you to do this.”

Her mouth tightened. “Well, he should not have gotten himself killed over a gambling debt, should he?”

“Yes, but—”

She leaned against the rough wooden rail of the deck. “There was no one else to guarantee the delivery to the Colonies.”

“Your father's men.”

She snorted at her companion's naiveté. “Let us please drop this discussion. What is done cannot be undone, and it is making my head ache.”

“Would you like an early night, m'lady?”

Rebecca propped her chin on her hand, staring at the sky as the sun began to set. Hues of orange, pink, and red swept across the purple night sky in glorious strokes. It was impossible to tell where the sky ended and the dark ocean began.

If not for the constant lull of the Margaret, named after her mother, on the waves, she might be able to forget they were at sea. “Yes, I do believe I would, and perhaps a bath too. It has been a few days since I imposed on the men.”

Nora nodded, heading off to commandeer a few of the more pliant sailors for lugging pails of water from the galley to the main cabin.

Rebecca turned to go to her quarters, almost running into Stokes, the first mate. “Pardon.”

He gave a half nod of his head. “M'lady, I do not like the looks of this.”

“What, Stokes?”

“The night sky is ominous.” He crossed himself. “It is a bad night to be sailing.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Especially with women on board.”

Her lips tightened, but she ignored his muttered protest. “Do you have anything to base this on, or is it merely a feeling?”

He glared at her, his cast eye narrowing, but focused on the main sail. “Do not mock me, m'lady. I been sailing the seas since I was but a lad of nine. I know—”

She waved her hand. “Yes, yes, you have told me many times, Stokes.” She bit back a sigh, tired of the constant struggle with him for command of the Margaret. “I bow to your expertise, but I am the captain.”

He spat on the wooden planking of the deck. “Ye ain't no captain, m'lady.” He glowered at her. “Dressing like a man will not make ye one.”

“Goodnight, Stokes.” She swept past him, knowing her grand exit was ruined by the lack of full skirts she was accustomed to wearing. Admittedly, the trousers were more practical, but the wool scratched unbearably. It was a relief to enter her cabin and remove the cap covering her long fall of ebony hair.

If not for the bath coming, she would immediately shed the clothing she had purloined from her father's closets and slide into the frothy sleeping gown folded neatly in her trunk. However, appearances with the men must be maintained. They knew she was a woman, but it was to her advantage to not remind them of that blatantly.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She lifted the latch to admit Nora, followed by four burly men. One carried the small tub Rebecca had brought on board with her, and the other three carried six pails of water between them. Without a word or expression on their faces, they emptied the water into the metal tub, and then exited the cabin.

Nora, paranoid as usual, took the pistol from the trunk and planted herself on a weathered chair, after positioning it before the door. “You may disrobe, m'lady.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes, but didn't comment. She removed the trousers, white shirt, and heavy jacket, tossing them across the trunk at the foot of the narrow bed. She slid into the water, wishing she still had some of the rose oil that had been depleted with her last bath. She settled for the thick cube of homemade soap the men used, grimacing as the rough texture turned her skin pink. Once she had washed her hair, she stepped from the tub and wrapped herself in a soft, absorbent sheet.

“Shall I send for the men, m'lady?”

She shook her head, stifling a yawn. “I am too tired to put those clothes back on so they can remove the tub. Tomorrow morning will be soon enough.” She lifted the lid of the trunk, removing the gown and her gold brush. She blinked back unexpected tears and a wave of homesickness. How she longed to be in their country home, sipping tea in the garden, or riding horses with her younger sister; anywhere but this awful ship. Damn Father for his irresponsibility.

“M'lady?”

She shook her head, looking up at Nora. “Yes?”

“Shall I brush your hair for you?”

She nodded, taking time to drop the sheet and slip into the pale blue, silk nightgown before sitting on the bed and leaning forward. There was comfort in the familiar motion of having her childhood governess brush her hair. Thank goodness Nora had insisted on accompanying her to ensure the safety of her virginity. She couldn't have gotten through this hellish voyage without her. Not that it was over yet. Several more days loomed ahead of them before they saw the port of Boston.

Once Nora moved away, Rebecca pulled back the covers and slid into the narrow bunk. As her eyes closed, she saw Nora sliding out the trundle bed. She tried to offer help, but another yawn stole the words. Her lashes drifted over dark-green eyes as the long day caught up with her and she slept.

Chapter 2

She awoke to a pounding sound outside the door. “Nora?” Rebecca sat up, pushing long strands of hair from her eyes.

“I am here, m'lady.” There was an edge of panic to her voice. “I have been trying to wake you for ten minutes.”

“I am sorry.” She blinked, noticing through the small, round window the beginnings of dawn streaking across the sky. “What is happening? Have I overslept?”

Nora huddled on the bunk with her. “I do not know, m'lady. I awoke to a heavy booming sound and the listing of the ship.”

“Pirates?” she asked aloud, immediately regretting it as she saw Nora wince. “Do not be alarmed. I doubt it is such, but if it were, Stokes and the men are brave and fierce.”

Nora nodded eagerly and jumped as the pounding resumed, this time shuddering the frame of the door. “Oh, m'lady, it must be pirates, for none of your father's men would dare intrude.”

Rebecca pushed back the covers and stumbled from the bed, swaying for a moment until her feet caught the rhythm of the ocean. As Nora had said, the ship listed more to the right than the left. Now was not the time to worry about the precious cargo sinking. Her only thoughts were of removing the pistol from the trunk and making sure it was ready to shoot.

As the door splintered, she stood in front of it, aiming the gun straight ahead. She heard Nora whimpering on the bed, but had no time to comfort her. The door burst open with one more solid hit, and four men swarmed into the room after dropping the beam they had been using to batter the door.

“Look at this. Finer treasure than in the hold.” The man who spoke appeared to be a few years older than she was, with half his teeth missing, and multiple scars lacerating his naked arms and chest.

“The captain will be pleased,” another said. He was as equally scarred, but wore a leather vest, unfastened. Three fingers on his right hand were missing.

The other two didn't speak, but their intensely hungry looks were enough to send shivers down her spine. They paid no attention to the pistol in her hand, seeming not to realize she had it. Her eyes darted about as they approached, fastening on her dressing gown. She snatched it from the rough table and slid it on quickly. As she did so, Rebecca dropped the pistol into the voluminous pocket.

The first one, covered in tattoos, reached Rebecca, with another close behind. Two men had gone to retrieve Nora from the bed, where she huddled in a sobbing ball. “Do not touch me,” Rebecca said firmly, with a bravado she didn’t feel.

“Or what, missy?” His voice was rough, as were his calloused hands when they touched her arm. “We control this ship now, and everything on it.” He tried to lift her.

Rebecca pushed against him. “I can walk.”

The man shrugged, and his companion chuckled. He waved his hand. “After you, m'lady.”

She glared at him, then at the two men manhandling Nora. “She can walk too.”

He shrugged again. “As you wish.” He turned to them. “Let her walk. If she stumbles, cut off her hand.” He leered. “She will not need that for our pleasure.”

Nora's sobs increased, but she pushed herself off the bed and ran to Rebecca, hugging her. “I am so sorry, m'lady.”

“It is not your fault, Nora.” Rebecca urged her along, and they walked into the passageway. Following the men's commands, they ended up in the galley. To her dismay, she saw that most of the crew was already quarantined there. Among them was Stokes, who glared at her. She had a sinking feeling the missing members of the crew had departed this world already.

“I told ye women would bring bad luck,” Stokes called out, earning a cuffing from the man nearest him. He subsided into silence, but wore an expression of mingled anger and fear.

“Captain.” The man with the rough voice prodded Rebecca and Nora toward a man standing apart from the others. He wore a torn white shirt smeared with red stains, brown trousers, and black boots. His blond hair was either short or worn in a ponytail.

He was too handsome to be the leader of these cutthroats, Rebecca found herself thinking, as she was pushed onto her knees in front of the captain.

“We found these two in the main cabin.”

“A highly worthy prize.” With a gloved hand, he touched Rebecca's oval face, smoothing his leather-covered fingers over her high cheekbones, straight nose, and full lips. “You men have earned one-and-a-half your share this day.”

Rebecca shivered as his hand moved to her hair, tangling in the ebony strands. She wanted to protest the touch, but prudence held her tongue. She had only to wait for an opportunity.

He turned to examine Nora. “Not bad. You will make a fine prize for the men.” His icy blue eyes turned back to Rebecca. “You shall be my take of the booty.”

As he reached for her, Rebecca sagged forward, pretending to faint. She slipped her hand into the pocket of the gown and withdrew the pistol. She kept it pressed against her thigh as he knelt to lift her. When he was level with her, she brought it up, pressing the barrel against his crotch. “I shan't be anything for you. Neither will any woman in future if you push me.”

His eyes widened, but he laughed. It was a cold, disturbing sound. “She is feisty.” His laugh cut off when she pressed the sharp barrel deeper into his genitals.

His expression hardened. “You cannot escape, m'lady. Even if you shoot me, thirty of my loyal men now control this vessel. You will become property of them all, for the rest of your life.” He lifted a brow. “Knowing this crowd, that should not be more than a day.” He held out his hand. “Give me the pistol.”

“I'll give you the ball,” she said with a vicious jab, satisfied when he winced. Her brain raced, searching for a way out.

Ordering them to leave wouldn't work, despite having the captain's privates in her line of fire. Nor would demanding a longboat for the crew, Nora, and herself. She grimaced at the thought forming in her mind, but reluctantly accepted it as her only alternative. Even it was no true guarantee. “I propose a bargain.”

He smirked. “What sort of bargain?”

“The crew and I will remain here in the galley while your men load the cargo. There will be no resistance from us. We will let you leave without a peep of protest.” She held her breath, already knowing he would discard her first offer.

He laughed. “We can buy compliance with the thrust of a sword, m'lady. Offer me something worthwhile, and perhaps we can come to an agreement.”

“I have not finished.” She tilted her chin. “Nora and I are not to be molested by you or your men.”

“Your conditions keep growing, while my rewards diminish. No deal, m'lady.” His announcement was met with a loud round of cheering from his men.

Rebecca's heart sank as she reluctantly offered her last bargaining chip. “On board this ship is my great-grandmother's diamond necklace. It is worth three times the value of the contents in the hold.” She swallowed back the tears in her throat, hoping her mother would understand why she had to use the necklace as a bargaining tool. “I was to deliver it to my sister, who lives in Boston. When you have unloaded the cargo and your men are back on your ship, I will hand it over to you.”

“I can find it myself.”

She shook her head. “No, you shan't. I hid it securely so no one would know I had it onboard. You could tear the ship apart and not find it.” Rebecca kept her eyes fastened on him, trying to project confidence.

The pain in her knees from kneeling on the rough planks was a distraction, as was the faint hint of skepticism remaining in his eyes. “Do we have a bargain?” She hoped so, for her hand was cramping from holding the pistol steady against his genitals.

He seemed to take great pleasure in shaking his head. “It is not enough.”

Her shoulders sagged, though her grip on the pistol didn't waver. “It is all I have to offer.”

The captain tilted her head up. “There is one more thing, m'lady.”

“What?”

“Your virtue.”

She gasped. “How dare you?”

His smile was cold. “Either way, you will not be a maiden by this evening, m'lady. It is your choice whether your servant suffers the same fate, and if you get passed among my men after I finish with you.”

Her hand wavered slightly, and Rebecca used her other hand to steady her arm. “You forget I hold the pistol, sir.”

He chuckled as he claimed a handful of hair and pulled her head back. “Submit, m'lady, and we shall have a bargain. Defy me, and you will not enjoy the consequences.”

She stared into his cold blue eyes, seeing an almost total lack of interest reflected back. He looked bored, as if either outcome would suit him equally. “If I agree to this madness, you swear your men will vacate this ship and leave my crew and companion unharmed?”

He released her hair. “After transferring the cargo, my crew will depart. Your men will be tied in the galley, and the lady will remain as virtuous as she is now.” He sent a mocking glance in Nora's direction. “Though, surely a woman of such mature years cannot be that innocent?”

A blush heated Nora's cheeks, and she dropped her head.

“When will you leave?” Rebecca glared up at him.

“When the deal is concluded, and I have the necklace.”

“How can I trust you?”

He bowed mockingly at the waist, without disturbing the position of the pistol. “You have my word, m'lady.”

She snorted.

He lost his indulgent expression. “Do not presume to question my honor. My word guarantees the safety of everyone on this ship, including yours. You need nothing else for insurance.”

Slowly, she drew the pistol away from his crotch. He took it from her hand, and she squeezed her eyes shut, anticipating a shot that never came. Instead, he lifted her to her feet and pulled her behind him. She cast one last look at Nora, but her companion's sorrowful expression did nothing to allay her fears.

Chapter 3

“Where are your quarters?”

“To the left,” she whispered. Fear quaked in her belly as horrible images of what he would do to her ran through her mind. Would God forgive her for the deal she had made, trading her purity for safe passage? “That door.” She pointed to the shattered door, embarrassed by the thought of it being open while he did what he wished with her.

He pushed her inside and followed. She watched as he stripped the top coverlet from the bed and draped it across the doorway as a makeshift curtain. When he turned back to her, nausea churned in her stomach as she waited to see what he would ask for.

“Do you have a name, m'lady?”

“R-rebecca,” she said, licking dry lips.

He nodded. “I am Christoph.”

She shrugged.

“Come closer, Rebecca.”

The sound of her Christian name on his lips sent shivers of dread racing through her. Somehow, her feet managed to obey his command, though her heart and head rebelled. When she stood within inches of him, her nose wrinkled at his stench—a combination of sweat, blood, and gunpowder.

“Where is the necklace?”

“After—”

“Now.” His expression brooked no argument. “Pardon my mistrust, Rebecca, but I want to ensure our bargain is not based on subterfuge.”

She swallowed down a retort, knowing she doubted his honor. Why should he feel any differently? She walked to her trunk and removed a dagger from inside. From the corner of her eye, she saw him tense, but offered no reassurances or explanations. Instead, she turned to the lamp on the table, lighting the wick in the oil so she could see.

As she walked over to the bed, he shadowed her within a step. Rebecca knelt, set the lantern on the floor, and got down on all fours. She wriggled her head and arms under the low bunk and felt for the loose floorboard. She found it within seconds.

Working in near darkness, she used the dagger to pry at the knothole. With a creaking protest and the snap of wood, a chunk of the planking flew up, bouncing against the bottom of the bunk before landing a few inches from her. She felt inside the small concavity for the velvet-wrapped necklace.

As she wriggled out from under the bed, she felt his hand drop to her hip. “What are you doing?” Being under the bed muffled her voice.

“Admiring your heart-shaped derriere, m'lady.”

She grunted as she worked her way out from under the bed before she rested on her legs. She handed him the pouch. “That necklace has been in my family for 100 years. The Earl who married my great-grandmother brought it back with him from one of his travels to the African continent.”

He lifted it from the velvet, whistling through his teeth. Even with the meager light provided by the small window and the lantern, the diamonds sparkled brilliantly. “Indeed, this will fetch a fine price.” He returned the necklace to the pouch and laid it on the trunk as Rebecca gained her feet. “But there is one prize still left to claim, and I think it shall be much more valuable.”

Rebecca bit back an instinctive protest as he pulled her into his arms, but couldn't fight back a groan as his head descended. “You stink.”

He pulled back and laughed. “I suppose I do.” His eyes fell on the tub of water, left from her bath last night. “That can be happily remedied.”

“The water is cold,” she said in a rush, not wanting to see so much of him. “You do not have time.”

“I have all day, m'lady.” He stripped off the gloves, an inch at a time, before he unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it on the floor. His boots, belt, and sword quickly followed. He stopped at the trousers.

She unconsciously breathed a sigh of relief that cut off when he pulled her arms in front of her. “What are you doing?”

“Slowing you down.” He pulled off the dressing gown, leaving her only in the thin silk gown she had slept in. “Sit on the bed, Rebecca.”

She shook her head, not quite daring to vocalize a protest.

He ignored her and pushed her down. He tore a strip of linen from the hem of the dressing gown.

“Are you insane? Do you have any idea how much that cost?”

He laughed. “A true noble, through and through.” His tone didn't sound flattering.

She watched, biting back more recriminations, as he knelt on the floor. When he lifted her feet, she kicked out at him, guessing what he planned. “No.”

He held her steady as he wound the strip around her ankles, binding her feet together. He tore another strip from the gown, using his teeth when it refused to tear completely. “Your hands, Rebecca.”

“Absolutely not.” She flailed her arms as he tried to capture them, succeeding in raking her nails down his chest and leaving red marks, but little else. Soon, her hands were bound in front of her. “You are a monster.”

“High praise.” His mouth twisted. “The gown must go.”

She laughed, a triumphant sound. “You cannot take it off now that you have me tied up.”

He shrugged. “You shall live with it being wet.”

She frowned. “What?”

“Come, m'lady. I find myself in need of an eager attendant.”

She gasped in protest as he lifted her to her feet, half-dragging her across the room to the tub. He pushed her into the wooden chair Nora had used last night before he removed his last stitch of clothes.

Heat swept up her cheeks as she got an eyeful of his cock before averting her eyes. She hadn't expected it to be so large. She prayed the knowledge her sister had given her about pairings between a man and woman had been a jest. There was simply no way it could possibly be true. It was a physical impossibility. She dared to turn back to him when she heard water splash in the tub.

“Certainly a lady's luxury.” He shifted his large frame in the shallow tub. “Bathe me.”

“You are not a child. Do it yourself.”

“It is my wish that you wash me, Rebecca.”

“My hands are bound.”

“You shall manage.”

She leaned forward, lifting the still-damp sponge. She threw it at him, and it bounced against his chin. “I am not your slave.”

An unpleasant grin curved across his face. “You are today, m'lady. Unless you want to forget our bargain?”

She scowled at him as she hobbled from the chair to the tub. Rebecca knelt on her knees, awkwardly holding the sponge in her bound hands. She dipped it into the freezing water, keeping her eyes deliberately averted upwards. She ran it across his chest before she moved to his back. He watched her every movement with intensity.

He handed her the rough cake of soap, and Rebecca ran it across his skin, unable to suppress a tiny smile as he grimaced at the rough texture. For herself, she would have applied it to the sponge first, but not for him. She washed down to his stomach before she moved the bar of soap to his back. He leaned forward slightly to give her better access. When she had finished, Rebecca ran the sponge across his back and his chest. She gasped when he grabbed her wrists.

“You are not finished, Rebecca.”

“You can wash your own hair.”

He gave her a sardonic look. “There is more to wash.”

Heat washed across her cheeks as he forced her hands down between his legs. She gasped as her fingers slid against his cock. “Please, I do not want to.”

“I do not care.” He continued to force her hands to move across his stomach, thighs, and cock.

Just when Rebecca thought she might faint or die from embarrassment, he released his hold on her wrists. She dropped the soap as if it had scalded her and stumbled away from him. Unbalanced by her bound feet, she toppled onto the wood floor, landing hard on her buttocks. Tears of humiliation and discomfort swam in her eyes, but she forced them back.

“Get on the bed and wait for me.” He took no time to ask after her as he rose from the water.

Rebecca glared at him as she inched her way to the bed. She grasped the frame, pulled herself up, and dropped on the bed. When she managed to roll around, the sight of his buttocks pointing in the air as he bent over the tub, washing his short, blond hair, confronted her.

Her mouth dropped open as he knelt closer to the tub, causing the muscles in his buttocks and thighs to bunch. The breath caught in her throat as he flexed. She barely tore her gaze from him in time to avoid his stare as he turned back to her. He used her bath sheet and walked to the bed.

“Now, to remove that bothersome gown.”

She tried to kick him, but her bound feet wouldn't cooperate. Rebecca screamed in outrage as he tried ripping the gown from her body. The modiste's stitches held, much to her delight and his annoyance.

Her struggles immediately ceased when he reached for the dagger she had left on the floor. Her eyes widened as he brought the blade to the bodice of the gown. She held her breath as he made one clean slice without the blade touching her skin.

“At last,” he muttered, and ripped the silk all the way down. He left the gown draped across her arms and bunched under her back, not bothering to remove it since it no longer impeded his access.

Rebecca whimpered as his calloused palm cupped her breast. Never had she been more humiliated or terrified. Never had she been so angry.

“Lovely.” Christoph tweaked the nipple. “Have you been a good girl as society demands, Rebecca? Are mine the first hands to touch such perfection?”

She remained stubbornly silent, refusing to look at him or acknowledge his words. Only the heat in her face betrayed any reaction. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

He sighed and tugged harder.

Rebecca didn't blink, though it hurt.

“You are most pig-headed.” He pinched the nipple harder still.

Rebecca tried to deny the growing pain in her breast as he tightened his grip. Sweat beaded her forehead, and her lips trembled. Still the pressure grew. Finally, a gasp tore itself from her throat as the pain passed bearable. Even after he released his hold, it continued to throb. She glared up at him.

“That is better.”

“Why? Do you enjoy hurting women?”

He shook his head. “I do not like bringing you pain, but I shall not spend the afternoon with a mannequin. I will settle for whatever kind of reaction I can elicit.” He smoothed his hand down her stomach. “This can be a day of pleasure or pain. It is your decision, m'lady.”

She flinched away from his touch. “I could never find pleasure at the hands of someone like you.”

His mouth tightened, but he shrugged. “That sounds like a challenge, m'lady.”

Rebecca regarded him with ill-disguised loathing, but held her tongue.

A strange smile worked its way across his face. “I have never been one to resist a challenge.”

A shiver passed through her. Was it dread or something else? She tensed as he settled himself on the bed beside her. “Will you untie me now?”

His brow furrowed. “No, not yet.”

She squirmed away from his fingers as they brushed against her hips. She suddenly noticed how cold the air in the room was against her bare flesh. She shivered again, this time more noticeably.

Christoph's hand paused at her thigh. “Do you like that, m'lady?”

Rebecca shook her head. “I am cold.”

He shrugged. “You will not be for long.”

Her green eyes glowed almost black with anger as he shifted her under him. Christoph straddled her, balancing his weight across her thighs, as he moved her arms over her head and held onto her wrists. Rebecca tried to buck him off. “Get off me, you great oaf.”

He laughed. “Relax, m'lady.” He leaned forward, and the murky light seeping in through the window highlighted the sharp angle of his cheekbones.

As he neared her face, Rebecca's body clenched. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you.”

She turned her head as his lips descended, and she gasped as he turned her head back. His mouth settled firmly over hers, and his lips moved gently. Rebecca clenched her hands together as much as the binding allowed, refusing to betray any reaction to his light touch.

She squeezed her eyes closed when he used his hand to apply pressure to the hollows of her cheeks, forcing open her mouth. As his tongue swept into her mouth, she resisted the urge to bite down, knowing he would perversely be pleased by proof of a reaction.

She forced herself to remain stiff and distant during the onslaught, though her belly quivered. It must be last night's stew. His mouth continued to move on hers for perhaps another minute before he lifted his head. Rebecca bit back a triumphant smile, forcing her expression to remain bland as she stared up at him.

He laughed. “You are most stubborn, but I shall crack that frigid exterior.”

She sniffed, raked her eyes across his face, and yawned. She bit back the urge to giggle as giddiness swept through her. What in the world? The sensation felt uncomfortably like pleasure. Surely not, for nothing about this encounter was pleasant.

His smile didn't waver as he lowered his head again.

Rebecca prepared herself to withstand another kiss, but barely bit back a gasp as his mouth settled on her nipple instead. It was the same one he had so fiercely pinched, and it still throbbed with every beat of her heart.

To her surprise, he barely touched the peak with the tip of his tongue. She anticipated more pain, but instead, the quivering in her stomach turned into a tingle that seemed to flow directly into her breast and focus on the small bud. She heard him chuckle, and she renewed her determination not to give in.

She dug the nails of her left hand into the side of her right hand as he made sweeping motions with his tongue across the nipple. She bit down on her lip as he released her wrists and brushed his hand across her other breast. He squeezed gently, and the tingling in her stomach transferred to that breast too. Her breathing grew ragged, and she struggled to suppress any harsh exhalations.

Even when his laving turned to gentle sucking, she forced her body to remain rigid. His breath blazed a warm trail across the valley of her breasts as he switched his attention to the neglected bud. Unlike the other, there was no pain or throbbing in that breast. Only extreme sensitivity, she discovered, as his mouth fastened hungrily on the globe. When he bit her, her legs twitched, but she quickly schooled her reaction.

He lifted his head. “Perhaps more pain will elicit a response?”

Rebecca's body clenched with dread, but she refused to plead for his mercy. She kept her expression stony as he lowered his mouth once more.

As his teeth fastened on her nipple, she tried to prepare herself. He bit more forcefully than before, but it didn't hurt. In fact, it felt so good that she could barely bite back a moan. Her teeth sank through the soft flesh of her lip, and the taste of copper filled her mouth. To her surprise, he withdrew again.

“Or perhaps different stimuli?” He studied her for a moment, before brushing his thumb across her lower lip. He held it up for her to see the crimson smudge. “M'lady is not as unaffected as she pretends.”

Once again, Rebecca denied him the satisfaction of an answer. She tensed as he moved off her thighs and settled farther down the bed. She resisted by clenching them together when he put his hand between her thighs.

He seemed unbothered by her resistance. Christoph wedged his knee between her calves, straining the bonds on her feet and opening her thighs a couple of inches.

She stiffened as his hand slid up to the juncture of her thighs. Rebecca drew in a deep breath as his fingers caressed her most intimate place. One burrowed through the tangle of curls to trace the outline of her lips. A small gasp broke free, and she knew she had lost.

She waited for him to withdraw, but he continued to stroke her. Incensed, she lifted her head to find him intently watching his hand's activities and paying no mind to her. Had he missed her sound of surrender?

Apparently so. She frowned as he withdrew his hand before he leaned forward. Her eyes widened, as his face got closer to her pussy. “No.”

He grinned. “The lady speaks.”

“You have won. Do what you came to do so I can get you off my ship.”

He paid no attention to her demands. Rather, he remained focused on his goals.

She cried out in shock and protest when she felt his tongue invade her folds. “You are indecent. You must stop this at once.”

He lifted his head. “Do not make me gag you too, Rebecca.”

“But—”

“Shhh.” He returned to his ministrations.

Rebecca tried to squirm away, but there was nowhere to go. Her feet were bound, and his hand was wedged between her thighs, ensuring she couldn't pull them apart or squeeze them together. She attempted to grab a handful of his hair, but he used his other hand to anchor her to the bed. He held it against her stomach as she wriggled against him.

Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized the wriggling intensified the tingling and burning between her thighs. She froze, but still could not escape his questing appendage. All her lack of movement did was dull the sensation. She resumed struggling, desperate to stop his unholy act.

Liquid heat seemed to invade her entire body, and she felt her pussy growing slippery under his mouth. She panicked, unsure what was happening, but knowing it must be stopped before—well, before something worse happened. “You cannot do this.”

In response, his hand moved from between her thighs to her pussy. He parted the folds and darted his tongue inside.

A moan ripped from Rebecca, and even she couldn't deny that it held more a note of pleasure than protest. “Please...” She trailed off, unsure what she was asking for.

His tongue returned to the tiny bud, stroking it, and stoking a fire deep in her stomach. Rebecca squirmed, thrusting her hips upward. She was no longer trying to escape, but actively participating.

As he continued to lick her clit, his finger slid into her entrance. She wanted to protest, but couldn't find her voice. Even the quick burning and stretching sensation didn't decrease her ardor. She thrust more urgently against him, feeling his finger slide more deeply inside her. The pain intensified, as did the pleasure. He flicked his tongue across her clit in a series of short, quick strokes as he slid his finger in and out of her.

Rebecca's eyes closed, and her entire body began to shake. It felt like an explosion was gaining momentum in her loins, and she held her breath for a long moment. When it escaped from her with a harsh sob, the explosion ignited, dragging heavily on her stomach, sex, and thighs.

She tensed and, as quickly, went boneless, as wave after wave of exquisite pleasure flooded through her. Tears leaked from her eyes. Tiny convulsions shook her body. When she finally found her voice, it emerged as a husky whisper. “What did you do to me?”

He slid up her body, cupping her face in his hands. “The French call it le petit mort.”

Rebecca frowned at him. “I speak fluent French, but have never heard such a term.”

Christoph grinned. “I should not think so, being raised in polite society. It translates to the little death.”

Her frown deepened. “That is a rather strange expression, is it not?”

He shrugged. “Did you not feel as though you were hanging by a thread between this life and the next for a moment there? Every breath felt like your last, did it not?”

She nodded, eyeing him uncertainly. “Is it a practice for death?”

He laughed. “Nay, it is to make procreation more enjoyable, m'lady.” One side of his mouth twitched. “Or, in our situation, just recreation, since we have no plans to produce offspring.”

Her eyes widened with panic. “This leads to babies?”

He blinked at her, looking astonished. “Did your mother tell you anything about what happens between a man and woman?”

She shook her head. “My sister told me a fanciful tale, but mentioned nothing about babies.” Her stomach churned with nausea. “Will I have a child now?” What would she do with a child and no husband? Society would revile her.

He sighed. “There is more involved in the process, which we will get to, but you shall not have a child.”

“How do you know?”

“A man can do certain things to prevent it.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Such as?”

He shook his head. “Trust me, Rebecca.”

It was her turn to sigh. “Very well. What else is involved?”

“It will be easier to show you than tell you.”

She tried to pretend the thought of another little death didn't send a dart of anticipation throughout her body. “May I be free now?”

He leaned over the edge of the bed, plucking the dagger from the floor. “Hold out your hands.”

Rebecca’s compliance earned her freedom. Reflexively, she rubbed her wrists, though the bonds had not been tight enough to restrict circulation. Once Christoph had cut through the bonds on her feet, she was able to pull her legs apart, and she noticed the cramps in her thighs.

When he leaned forward to kiss her, Rebecca didn't bother to keep up her pretense of no response. What was the point now? He had overcome her defenses, but it hadn't been an unpleasant experience. She ardently submitted to his kisses, returning them with equal fervor.

Soon, he was kneeling between her thighs. “I fear you will not enjoy this aspect so much, Rebecca.”

She found that difficult to believe, remembering the last experience. “I am ready.” She frowned as he pulled on her thighs, bringing her pussy closer to his cock. “What are you doing?”

“Claiming your maidenhead.”

“But...” She nibbled on her lip and winced as her teeth raked across the exposed wound. “How?”

He lifted a brow. “It requires a joining between us.”

Her eyes widened as she remembered her sister's account of her wedding night. “Dear Heaven. Could Elizabeth have told me the truth?”

He laughed. “I imagine she did, judging from your look of horror.”

“You cannot,” she blurted. “It is impossible.”

“It is possible and highly pleasurable.”

Rebecca shook her head, but her protests were cut short by his sudden possession. A cry tore from her throat. “It hurts.”

“Only for a few moments, m'lady.”

Rebecca shifted, trying to push him away and relieve herself of the stretched, burning sensation between her thighs. “I do not like this.” She glared up at him, pounding her fists against his chest ineffectually. “I demand you desist.”

Sweat beaded his forehead, and his jaw was tightly clenched. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Quit squirming. Remain still, and the pain will fade.”

“I do not believe you, sir. I wish to end this now.” She put the palms of her hands against his chest, pushing with all of her might. “I said...” She trailed off with a startled gasp as he moved his hand between their bodies. Rebecca's eyes widened when she felt his thumb sliding across the tiny nub that had given her so much pleasure. To her surprise, the pain began to fade as the tingling sensation took over again. “I—” She moaned as he withdrew slightly, then thrust into her again.

“Has the pain faded, m'lady?”

“It has lessened.” Even as she responded, the pain became negligible, almost completely usurped by the pleasure. Her body responded instinctively to his, as her hips rose to meet each of his thrusts. He continued to touch her while he surged into her, and Rebecca felt another explosion coming on. As he filled her again, she felt her insides quiver. Her pussy contracted around his cock, and she started trembling. She clung to him as the little death revisited her. Soon, she was sobbing and crying out his name.

As Rebecca fell back against the bunk, he withdrew. She made a murmur of protest and frowned as she felt wetness across her stomach. “What are you doing?”

“Preventing babies.” Christoph slowly eased away from her, yawning. “I believe this was a most pleasurable bargain we made, m'lady.”

A blush swept across her cheeks, and Rebecca averted her eyes. She refused to confirm his words. “Well, it is over now.”

He chuckled, throwing his arm across her waist. “Not yet. We shall sleep, eat, and partake of each other a bit more before this day ends.”

“But—”

He pulled her head onto his shoulder. “Rest, Rebecca. You will need your energy for later.”

With a sigh, she submitted to his request. She nuzzled her nose deeper into his neck, enjoying the male scent of him. How had she become such a wanton in so short a time? Her lids were heavy, dragging themselves down, and she was too tired to dwell on her descent into decadence. Later, she would worry about that.

* * * * *

She awoke to the pleasurable sensation of his tongue in her pussy, probing for the sensitive spots that elicited so much pleasure. Rebecca blinked open her eyes and raised her head. He had removed the remnants of the nightdress before beginning his exploration, and she was completely nude. Her stomach clenched with excitement at the sight of the pirate kneeling between her legs. “Sir,” she whispered shyly, as her juices flooded his mouth. “What are you doing?”

He lifted his head and smiled at her. “Preparing you. I wish to be inside you again.”

She shifted restlessly, pushing her hips upward to reclaim his attention. “So soon?”

“Aye,” he said, and returned his mouth to her pussy.

Rebecca tilted her pelvis upwards to allow him better access and winced as her sore muscles protested. Soon, his tongue made the flash of pain a memory, and she buried her hands in his hair, pulling him more firmly against her. She felt a twinge of conscience as she imagined the picture they presented. Her legs spread wide, and Christoph lying between them. What would Mama say if she knew?

She bit back a giggle at the thought of her mother catching them. Rebecca would be as horrified as her mother, but she couldn’t resist picturing the expression Mama would have on her face. If she had been near apoplexy the time Rebecca, as a child, lifted her skirt to her knee to show off a nasty scab to her cousin, she would probably collapse if she saw what her daughter was doing this day.

Within seconds, her thoughts detoured from Mama’s reaction, as Christoph’s tongue pressed firmly against her clit and began rotating in slow circles. His hands were under her buttocks, kneading her cheeks, and pressing her upward. Rebecca moaned as her lower body clenched with anticipation. Her nipples throbbed almost painfully, and she reached up to rub them to ease the ache.

When Christoph sucked the nub into his mouth and grazed it with his teeth, she cried out and tightened her thighs around his head. Within seconds, the first wave of an orgasm swept over her, and she was convulsing. He continued to slide his tongue through her pussy, causing already sensitive areas to become supersensitive. Before the first little death faded, another was upon her.

She trembled and shook, and slowly her body calmed. Her heartbeat slowed in her ears, and her legs stopped shaking. Rebecca took a deep breath and stopped rubbing her nipples.

Christoph lifted his head and licked his lips. “You have a delicious pussy, m’lady.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

He chuckled and traced his fingers across the swollen lips of her cleft. “Your pussy is not only beautiful, but tasty. I could eat you for hours.”

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