Olivia wasn’t certain how much time had passed, but the sun had moved steadily across the sky and she knew the day was close to ending. The wind had picked up, pushing a welcome breeze into the cabin, cooling the air and her blood. Mortified by remembrances of her earlier behavior, her face heated and she squirmed in her seat.
What in God’s name was the matter with her? She’d never in her life kissed a man, let alone touched him or begged him to touch her. And Captain Phoenix of all people! A man reputed to be as dangerous and deadly as a viper. Why didn’t she fear him? Why did she wish to bare herself to his gaze and open her body to whatever he desired?
A knock sounded, and she moved quickly to the desk, collecting the pistol. “Yes?” she shouted, her heart racing. Had Phoenix returned?
The door opened. “’Tis Maggie, milady,” her abigail called.
Olivia released a sigh of mixed relief and disappointment. The young servant entered, followed by three sailors. Two of the men hefted yokes with steaming buckets, and the third held her small hip bath. They poured the hot water and then brought in her trunks. Shooting wary glances at the pistol, the pirates departed the room with haste, and Maggie shut the door behind them.
“Are you well?” Olivia asked with concern, wondering how the young girl had fared in the company of Phoenix’s men.
“Um?” Maggie hummed distractedly as she stepped over to Olivia’s trunks and began to sort through her clothing. “Oh, yes. Quite well. His lordship made certain of it.”
The abigail came to her and easily tugged the huge shirt over her head. When the sleeve caught on the gun, Olivia set the weapon on a trunk and laid the shirt next to it. She missed the garment immediately, infused as it was with the scent of Phoenix’s skin.
Maggie began to loosen the fastenings to her gown. Looking over her shoulder, Olivia asked, “What if he should return?”
The maid chuckled. “Little chance of that happening. He’s fixing the main mast.”
“What?” Olivia shot a worried glance out the window. The wind continued to pick up speed. “Why didn’t he delegate the task?”
“He said it was too dangerous with the wind blowing like it is.”
“Good God!” Olivia headed toward the door. He could be killed. And for some odd reason, she couldn’t bear to think of it.
“Milady! You cannot go out there now. Your gown . . .”
Olivia clutched her bodice and ran from the room. When she gained the deck, she looked up at the sky in horror. Still bare-chested, Phoenix clung to the mast, his powerful muscles bunched with exertion, his silky hair blown loose from its queue and whipping around his face. From her vantage, his large form seemed tiny, and yet he appeared at home in the turbulence. His movements were sure and efficient as he struggled against the gales, no fear evident in the expertise of his actions. In fact, no one around her seemed even remotely fearful. Her heart, however, beat a panicked rhythm, ready to burst from her chest.
She sensed the large presence that moved up to her side, and turned to look at the red-haired man she’d nearly shot earlier.
“Ye shouldn’t be up ’ere on the deck,” he grumbled. “The men can’t ’elp but ogle ye, and the captain won’t be liking that at all.”
“I tried to tell her,” Maggie muttered as she came up behind them.
“What the devil is he doing?” Olivia cried, loose hair from her plait blowing around her face until she could barely see. “Can’t the repair wait until the wind dies down?”
Red shrugged. “Surely. But ’e was already up there, so ’e might as well finish.”
As the wind whipped by again, she returned her gaze to Phoenix. She screamed as he lost his grip and was blown free, his body dangling precariously by the rigging. He was suspended there as the wind flew by, and then his hold began to slip. Unable to watch, Olivia turned to Red and buried her face in his chest, her fists clutching handfuls of his filthy shirt. No one could long survive being battered against the mast like a flag.
“Damned stupid fool!” she cried into the pirate’s chest as the men on deck scrambled into action.
It was unreasonable, this horrid fear that clawed at her vitals and tortured her mind. Phoenix was a stranger of only hours’ acquaintance. But they’d been intimate. He’d touched her in ways she’d never touched herself. He’d made her feel reckless and wild. She’d felt alive—
Warm hands gripped her shoulders and turned her, pressing her face into salt-flavored bare skin. “Hush, love,” Phoenix’s deep voice purred in her ear, his warm breath fanning across her neck, his hair blowing around them.
Olivia sank into him with relief. Her fingers clawed at his back, pulling him closer. “You bloody idiot!” she scolded.
He chuckled. “Don’t swear, sweetheart. I’m fine.”
She pulled back and slapped his chest with a smack that tingled her palm. “You won’t be when I’ve finished with you! Are you daft? What were you doing up there in weather such as this?”
It was then that she saw his arm, bleeding and chafed raw from the coarse rope that had saved his life. “Oh . . . look at your arm.” Her hands went to the injury, and her eyes flew up to his.
“It’s nothing,” he said dismissively, absently rubbing the spot where she’d hit him.
Maggie leaned over. “I can make my grandmother’s healing tea. It’ll take a bit to cook up, but it works miracles.”
“Yes, do that.” Olivia returned her gaze to Phoenix as the abigail moved away. “I have some salve to put on this. Return to the cabin and allow me to tend it.”
The blue of his eyes darkened. “I suppose you’ll insist, and threaten me with some weapon or another.”
“If I have to.”
He offered a mocking half-bow. “After you.”
Clutching her bodice, Olivia hurried down to the cabin, willing her heartbeat to slow. Her entire face was marked with his scent. Salty and spicy, it was a richly masculine smell of hardworking male and pure Phoenix. Every breath she took was redolent of the faint traces of his cologne and his unique fragrance.
She threw open the door and rushed to the smallest of her trunks, all the while agonizingly aware of his presence behind her. Delving around, Olivia found the small jar of medicinal salve and straightened, turning to face her pirate captor. He stood just inside the closed doorway, watching her intently, his hands fisted at his sides. The room drew in, shrinking, until there was nothing but Phoenix and her and the powerful attraction between them.
“Come closer,” she urged.
His brows drew together as his gaze dropped. Olivia followed it, catching sight of her gaping bodice offering him an unhindered view of her breasts. She hastily covered herself, embarrassment heating her cheeks. His face was hard, his body as still as stone, a statue of a god rendered in flesh and bone.
Turning her back to him, she set the salve jar atop her trunk and retrieved the shirt he had given her earlier. “If you rub that into your—”
She stumbled into silence when he appeared at her side.
How a man as large as Phoenix could move with such stealth she couldn’t fathom. He stood behind her, so close she could feel the heat of his skin and the warmth of his breath as it gusted across her shoulder in unsteady measure. He tugged the shirt from her hands and tossed it away. Wordlessly, he reached for the jar and opened it, scooping up a small amount of the salve. Olivia watched unmoving, arrested by his proximity, as he set the jar aside and picked up her hands. He began to rub the salve into her chafed wrists, his touch strong yet gentle and soothing. The moan that rose in her throat escaped without thought.
“You like my touch,” he whispered hoarsely, “don’t you?”
Helplessly, she lifted her face and stared into his eyes. She swallowed hard. “It burns.”
Phoenix nodded, his gaze knowing. “Offer me your mouth.” Although his voice was soft, there was no mistaking the command.
Caught in his spell, Olivia’s lips parted as his head dropped to hers. At the fir
st contact, her knees went weak. She would have fallen if he hadn’t drawn her close. Her senses flooded with his taste, her body softening instinctively for his. His head slanted, finding the perfect fit, and his tortured groan made her dizzy.
Arms around her waist, Phoenix lifted her feet from the floor and carried her to the small corner table. He kicked the chair aside and laid her on the polished surface. Following her down, his mouth never left hers, his tongue sweeping inside with caressing licks.
He gripped the torn edges of her gown, and with a harsh, impatient tug, he ripped the garment and the chemise below it to the waist. His hands went immediately to her aching breasts, plucking the tips, twisting them, the way he must have sensed she desired. Her sex flooded with moisture. He was ravishing her, pillaging and plundering, and it was just what she wanted him to do, what she’d wanted him to do since he’d first come onto her ship.
Olivia moaned into his mouth. “What are you doing to me?”
“What are you doing to me?” he retorted harshly. “Only hours I’ve known you, and already you drive me to madness.” He nuzzled her throat, then blazed a burning trail of open mouthed kisses to her breasts. “I want to devour you, fill you with my cock, ruin you.”
“Phoenix . . . ” She shied away from the tumultuous sensations that were entirely new to her, but she could not escape him. The pirate held her pinned, his hard body pressed between her spread legs. He sucked a straining nipple into his hungry mouth, the combined effect of his tongue strokes and the rhythmic pulling causing her to grip his hair convulsively. Unable to help herself, Olivia arched upward and rubbed herself against the straining length of his erection. Pleasure speared through her, hot and searing. Stunned, she sank back onto the table.
“No,” he ordered around her breast. “Don’t stop . . .” He ground his cock into her, moving his attentions to her other breast, and Olivia moaned loudly, her body on fire. Phoenix pulled back far enough to push the volume of her skirts out of the way. His hand brushed the damp curls of her sex, and he stilled.
His gaze moved to hers as he slid a long finger through the slickness of her desire and parted the soft folds. He circled and rubbed the tiny spot where she ached, causing her back to arch on a startled cry and moisture to flood his hand. Groaning, he eased inside her. She murmured a faint protest, but her hips lifted of their own accord, pushing into the wicked invasion.
“You’re so hot, so tight.” His finger slid in to the base. With his free hand, he lifted her leg until her slippered foot rested on the surface of the table. Then he pushed her knee outward, completely opening her to his gaze. He stared at her sex and withdrew his finger. Olivia watched, fascinated, as he brought his hand to his mouth and sucked his finger inside. “Ummm,” he purred, the sound deeply sexual.
He lifted and spread her other leg as he had the first. She flushed, knowing she looked wanton, her gown ruined, her breasts exposed and damp from his mouth, her sex open and glistening with her lust for him.
Phoenix brought both hands between her legs—one spreading the sheltering lips while the other slipped the long, calloused finger back inside her. He began to pump in and out, his gaze arrested by the sight. Her hands gripped the rounded edges of the table, her lower lip caught in her teeth, as she struggled to remain silent. She wanted to cry out, to scream. It felt so wonderful she could hardly bear it. Tension built, coiling in her stomach and shooting outward in hot waves. She didn’t understand it, but her body knew, her hips lifting in counterpoint to his movements.
She was so wet, so wild, for him, Olivia could hear the sucking sounds of her body as it tried to hold the plunging finger within her. And then there was more of him inside her—two fingers, drenched in her cream, thrusting in and out. She released her lip and cried out, her body shuddering.
“Please . . .” she begged, but she didn’t know for what.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he growled. “The feel of me inside you. You’d like my cock, wouldn’t you, sweet? Stretching you, filling the emptiness that my fingers cannot.”
His intense blue eyes remained locked on the place where he claimed her, as he slowly slid down her body, his skilled fingers never ceasing their torment. He licked his lips, and his scandalous intent became apparent. “No,” she whispered in protest.
“You will not deny me this,” he bit out. “A small taste of heaven before I return you.”
Olivia knew propriety dictated she stop him, push him away, but she couldn’t, not when Phoenix looked at her the way he was doing now. She rose onto her elbows and watched his mouth descend, his tongue slipping like fire through the petals of her sex.
She ground her hips restlessly into the table. It was horrible and wonderful and wicked. And she loved it, loved how he made her feel, loved to watch him so totally focused on her. His expert tongue lapped her aching sex in a way that soothed and excited at the same time. Olivia spread her legs wider, arching up into his mouth, feeling empty just as he said she would, despite his rapidly stroking fingers. With frightening understanding, he seemed to know exactly what she needed, his tongue held rigid as it flicked against the source of her torment, the source of her pleasure. Phoenix dropped to his knees, concentrating the full extent of his skill on pleasuring her mindless. Higher and higher he pressed her, making erotic sounds of enjoyment against her flesh, until she couldn’t bear it any longer. His fingers moved faster, his tongue lapped harder, his growls grew louder—
Her orgasm made her scream, her entire body stretching taut across the table and shaking with sensation as she convulsed in ecstasy against his mouth.
He remained between her legs, sliding his fingers from her and replacing the loss with his tongue until she regained control of her breathing. Only then did he stand and cover her body with his.
“Phoenix . . . ”
He pulled her against him, his body rigid and damp with sweat. Olivia knew he had not felt the same pleasure he had given to her.
“Tell me what to do,” she begged against his throat. “Tell me how to please you.”
“You did,” he assured her in a gruff whisper. “To feel you come in my mouth . . . ’twas a singular experience, love.”
“I want—”
“I know what you want,” he interrupted dryly.
“Please. I want to pleasure you as well.”
“No.”
Her eyes slid closed, and her head fell to the side, away from his mouth. “You don’t want me . . . that way.”
“Look at me.” Phoenix clasped the sides of her face in his large hands and forced her to face him. His fiery blue gaze burned into hers. “It is not a question of wanting you, but a question of wanting the best for you. I am not it.”
Her eyes stung, her emotions scattered and confused. “I just want to please you.”
He sighed. “You ask for more control than I am capable of.”
She searched his face, so austerely handsome and passion-flushed. Something in his eyes—a wary softening—tugged at her heart. She brushed her fingertips across his mouth, and he pressed an urgent kiss against them. Reaching for his hair, Olivia brought it around to frame his face. “You are the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen. I want to touch you all over, put my mouth on you, make you wild for me . . .”
“Olivia.” His voice was a pained whisper as his eyes closed on a ragged breath. “Damn you.”
Phoenix stood, and opened the placket to his trousers, moving so quickly she had no time to see him. He leaned over her, and she felt him, hot and hard, in the crease of her sex. She shivered, her body slowly coming to renewed life.
“Hold me tight.”
“Yes . . .” She held onto him like a woman drowning.
And then he rotated his hips, moving his cock easily through her slick lips. She tensed, expecting stretching and pain, but it never came. He began to move against her, a driving, urgent rhythm of his hips against hers. His cock was hot and hard as he pumped through the folds of her sex, his tight balls slapping agai
nst the damp opening to her body. But he kept away from the full consummation she craved.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he gasped. “Move with me . . . yes . . .” His skin turned hot under her hands, his breath heaving from his lungs.
The heavy weight of him moving so feverishly between her thighs renewed the ache within her. Wanting to experience the pleasure again, Olivia writhed beneath him, clawing at his back, as her body rushed for the precipice. She sobbed when the rapture hit her, and then Phoenix tensed, rock hard, against her. Burning dampness flooded across her stomach in pulsing jets.
He cried out her name as he shuddered in her arms.
Sebastian buried his face in the fragrant curve of Olivia’s neck and damned himself for being a heartless cad. His control was a source of pride to him, but he’d had none of it today. From the moment he’d seen her on the deck of the Seawitch with her chin tilted defiantly and a far too heavy sword in her hand, he’d been captivated. As the day had progressed, he’d become more and more enamored with her. Her beauty alone was impossible to resist, but the fire, the passion . . . He could no more have resisted touching her than he could have chosen to stop breathing.
She’d been trying to assist him, to tend to his wounds, as no one ever had. And he’d repaid her by staring lustily at her exposed breasts and stripping her of his shirt when she’d wished to cover herself. Olivia had been willing, eager, but he should have walked away for her own good. He could never be the husband she deserved. Despite this, he’d spread her out, a feast for a starving man, and debased her with his ravenous touch.
And damned if he didn’t want to do it again. Immediately.
Sebastian rose onto his elbows and gazed down at Olivia’s beautiful face, flushed with his passion. He almost inquired if she was well, but the dazed look in her eyes answered the unspoken question. His expression most likely mirrored hers.
Placing a swift, hard kiss against her parted lips, he untangled his limbs from hers. Olivia was all heat and desire, a fiercely passionate woman who, even in her innocence, had pleasured him almost beyond bearing. Untried and unschooled, she hadn’t the guile to hide her response or to play any games. He’d felt wanted, needed, in a way no one had ever made him feel before.