Page 56 of Stalking Wendy Darling

A snort burst from me. “Better take good care of yourself then,” I replied.

She groaned, her eyes falling shut. “Now I see why everyone calls you a villain. It’s not because you’re a thief, kidnapper, or murderer. It’s because you’re a tease.”

This time the smile overtook my whole face, a laugh rumbling its way through my chest. Fuck, it was good to have her back. And I wouldneverlose her again. I’d obliterate anyone who even tried to remove her from my side.

And knowing my girl, she’d get aroused by the violence.

Chapter Thirty-One

WENDY

Ilasted ten days, and I crawled the walls for the whole time, but this morning I had a plan. A burn twinged on my back as I picked up the chair from Hook’s desk, cursing his love of solid wood and gorgeous craftsmanship as I staggered to the door, jamming it under the handle. It wouldn’t stop a determined captain from leaving, but it would stop any bastards interrupting us like last night. I’d beensoclose to getting his hand on my body when Maceo turned up with warnings of a storm on the horizon.

I got back into bed carefully, mostly so I didn’t wake him prematurely but also because I still ached everywhere. The sharp, unbearable pain had dullened though, no more than a toothache gnawing at me. No reason at all why I shouldn’t have him inside me.

My plan of attack this morning was two pronged. First, I slid down the bed, the fact he slept naked making it easy to wrap my fingers around his base and seal my mouth around the tip of his cock, sucking in slow pulses. The second prong involved gettinghim inside me, but that would take some convincing. I’d learned no amount of talking and pleading and whining would work. Instead, I needed to make him mindless with need.

“Wendy,” he groaned, his voice gruff with sleep in a way that made my skin break out in goosebumps. He stretched languorously beneath me. “What are you doing, mutineer?”

“Helping myself to your cock?” I dragged my lips down his length, darting out my tongue to taste him and thrilled with the deep grunt it pulled from my captain.

His hand slid into my hair, fingers spearing my wavy locks. “You’re trying to weaken me so I’ll finally fuck you.”1

I didn’t reply, just moved my mouth over his cock, the way he hardened in my mouth giving me a shot of power and smugness.

“How do you feel?” he asked, his voice a perfect blend of rugged and softness.

“So,sowet,” I replied, low and sensual.

Hook’s eyes slammed shut. “Not what I meant, darling.”

“I can feel myself dripping all over the bed every time I throb,” I told him, suctioning my mouth around the head of his cock and sucking hard. His groan was a drug. I was addicted. I needed more.

His fingers tightened in my hair. “Wendy.”

“Fuck,” I groaned, dragging my lips over his length. “My clit aches every time you say my name.”

His nostrils flared, his eyes tight with intensity as he watched me. I peered up at him as I sucked him into my throat with a bit more effort than I was expecting. It was all worth it when I coaxed another one of those groans from my captain.

“Wicked woman,” he gasped when I swallowed around him, the taste of him making my mouth water.

I drew him slowly from my throat, sliding my tongue along a pronounced vein, and took a ragged gasp. My belly filledwith fluttering excitement at the look on his face. “I want you, Kingston. Name your price.”

“Ineedyou,” he rasped, dragging a touch down my side, his hand still tight in my hair. “God, fuck, take whatever you want.”

I would do exactly that, but first I wanted to watch him lose his mind. I skimmed my palms up his thighs, the hair dusted across his skin making my hands tingle. My touch lingered on the places where his skin raised in ragged circles, an echo of the wounds on my own body, caressing each and every scar until Hook’s breathing hitched and broke, faster, sharper. A deeper reaction than even my mouth on his cock had coaxed from him.

“Wendy,” he said, his voice raw. The velvet brush of his stump down my side made me melt into him, his cock forgotten for the moment as I mapped the scars on his ribs with my mouth, leaving kisses on each one, like I could heal those reminders of his past with a simple brush of my lips.

I didn’t speak of what I’d suffered for days and he’d endured for years. It had no space here in our bed. Even if the ghosts lingered, I wouldn’t speak them into existence.

“Every part of you is beautiful to me,” I said against his ribs, my lips skimming a jagged red slash newer than the others.

“Not every part surely,” he said in a quiet voice, his thumb stroking over my scalp, fingers buried in my hair.

“Every part,” I said firmly, finding another faded scar, then a raised red slash. “What trouble did you get into while I was gone? You’re cut up everywhere.”

“I thought you were dead,” he replied, his arm winding around my back, pulling me tighter to his body. “I lost my mind. I couldn’t figure out how to breathe, how to walk, how to eat.”

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