Page 43 of Any Duke in a Storm

Her eyes slipped to his tattoo—she was the eagle and he was Prometheus. “Did you think this would be easy? I thought you said you liked a little pain. You come when I say you can come.”

A harsh bark of laughter left him. “I should have remembered how cruel you are, Viking.”

Lisbeth stood slowly and walked around the table to where he stood shaking, as if it took every ounce of power within him not to come apart. He was gripping the base ofhis cock so hard that his knuckles were white. She glanced at the bulging head of his very swollen, very angry erection and bent at the waist to lick around the tip of his piercing before enclosing the entire crown into her mouth.

The growl that broke from him was savage. “Merde. I can’t hold back…if you do that.”

She released him with a soft pop, the salted tang of him bursting on her tongue. One day, she might have to indulge properly, but for now, the small taste would have to suffice. Lisbeth knelt, sitting back on her heels and presenting herself to him like an offering to the gods in the Greek temples of old. “Then don’t. Now, come for your mistress.”

Raphael’s eyes widened, lust roaring through them, and a guttural sound flew from the depths of his chest as if all it took were her words for thick, hot ropes of his seed to splatter onto her bared breasts. It was feral,primalin the extreme, and she reveled in the carnality of it.

Lisbeth didn’t have to touch herself to feel her own release break through her like a slow, undulating wave…a strange, complementary echo of his. She exhaled with stunned pleasure. Well, that was a first, though she’d been wound so tight that such a thing was entirely possible. She’d had orgasms in dreams before. This felt like that.

Panting, Raphael stared down at her, eyes on the mess he’d made and awe on his face. A spent, gorgeous Titan.

Lisbeth grinned up at him and winked. “Good boy.”

Thirteen

The wharves at Cedar Key were extraordinarily busy, which meant that every hand on theAvalon’s decks was occupied in dropping anchor in the bay just off the coast. A good thing, considering whose ship they were on—a fact Raphael refused to forget. He wouldn’t let his guard down so easily, no matter how normal things seemed.

Disaster struck when one least expected it. He should know.

The rest of the voyage around the southern coast of Florida had passed quietly enough, but that didn’t mean the danger would not be in front of them. Changing ports at the last minute gave him some latitude, but staying one step ahead of Dubois required vigilance.

Not that Raphael was capable of rational, good sense at the moment.

He’d fucked all of his out onto his captain’s gorgeous breasts. Even now, the thought of their frantic interlude had his ears going hot. They hadn’t copulated, and yet, that had been one of the most erotic experiences of his adult life.

He’d meant it when he had told Lisbeth that the decision to continue was hers, and he’d been fully prepared to take himself in hand once he was alone. But what she’dmade himdo—the press of those siren’s eyes observing every stroke, every groan, and every shudder before letting him indulge in a deliciously filthy fantasy he never knew he needed—had been astounding. And intensely arousing.

His body was still reeling from the aftershocks.

But that was Lisbeth…a woman-sized hurricane.

“Son of a biscuit eater! Land, ho, ye scurvy-ridden picaroons!” a childish voice hollered from the lower deck. “Get yer daddles working before I make ye walk the plank at the tip of me sword!”

Raphael stifled a laugh at Narina’s antics. At least she was attempting to be more creative with her insults. He lifted a brow and whistled. “Who are you supposed to be, lass? Still Anne Bonny?”

She waved a stick she’d pilfered. “I’m Mary Read today, bucko!”

Raphael chuckled. She definitely wasn’t lacking in energy or enthusiasm. “It’s ‘Captain’ to you, you young scallywag.” He glanced around for her minder, but Lisbeth was nowhere in sight. He frowned. “Where’s your sister?”

“Who?” she shouted with a wrinkled nose before her eyes widened. She ran across the deck toward him and climbed the stairs to where he stood at the wheel. “Oh, ay. The sly wench went ashore with Ballsack and Gibbons to visit the sutler for supplies.”

Raphael nearly choked on his own spit. “What did you say?”

“The sly wench went ashore—”

“No, no, that boatswain’s name is Balzac, like the French novelist.”

Her cute, too-innocent face scrunched up as she tugged on the handkerchief wrapped around her head. “Right. That’s what I said. Ballsack.”

If he hadn’t seen the mischievous glint in her eye, Raphael would have been taken for a good long ride. The little brat knewexactlywhat she was saying. “When did Lisbeth leave?”

“Shiver me timbers, I don’t recall.” Narina picked up the spyglass on the ledge beside him and peered into it. She swung the glass to him, and he stared back with a pointed look until she sighed. “Not so long after we put into port, Cap’n.”

His frustration was instant. God damn Lisbeth’s impulsiveness! He shouldn’t be angry that she had left without telling him, probably because he would not have allowed it. Blast her! She must have guessed that he would have pulled rank as theAvalon’s captain to forbid her from going to shore, or at least to insist he remain at her side.

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