Page 37 of Kidnapped by the Pirate
His limbs were loose, and he should have been able to drop off right away. There was no reason to wonder how Plum was feeling. Sure as hell no reason to worry. No reason to soothe him. Hawk had given him what he wanted.
He’d taken what he wanted too. It had been too long since he’d lost himself in a fuck, and now he had. He’d buggered Walter Bainbridge’s only son, adding another layer to his revenge.
That was the end of it.
Yet sleep was elusive as he listened to Plum retreat to the corner. Hawk cracked his eyes to watch him clean himself, the guttering lamp casting jerky shadows. Taking the bucket Hawk had once again allowed him, Plum splashed a bit of water on his soiled drawers, then reached behind himself, wincing.
Hawk imagined how skilled Plum would grow, his nature passionate and curious. Oh, the things Hawk could teach him…
Enough.
This had been a one-time indulgence. He’d marked Bainbridge’s heir, and even if the snake never knew, Hawk would. Nathaniel would—
No. His name is only Plum. My bounty. My revenge. Nothing more.
Resolutely, he closed his eyes to Plum’s creamy skin and spent, sweaty limbs. Soon the lamp extinguished, and all was darkness. Two words echoed in his mind.
Never again.
Chapter Ten
I’ve been fucked.
Well, to be accurate, Nathaniel had largely fucked himself. He’d ridden the pirate king’s massive prick the way he imagined a whore would—wanton and desperate. Shameless.
The memory tightened his bollocks, his nipples tingling, stomach swooping. Curled on the floor, awful blanket kicked aside, he admitted the truth, if only to himself.
I want to do it again. And again. And again.
He’d thought he’d known his body’s hunger—the shape and weight of it, its sharp edges and cavernous depth—but he’d only scratched the surface. Now that he’d had a cock inside him, the itch had burrowed deeper than he’d imagined possible. It burned in every inch of him.
Hawk had left to go on deck, and in the dawn light, Nathaniel poked around in nooks and crannies, opening drawers. Yet he found no mirror, the one Hawk used while shaving and trimming his shadow of a beard apparently locked up with the weapons.
Nathaniel laughed at himself for wondering if he’d somehow appear different. Standing by the bed, which was less luxurious than it looked—the mattress had been surprisingly hard beneath his knees—he reached out and ran a hand over the rumpled linens.
His belly swooped once more, skin flushing, even though a voice piped up to warn that he shouldn’t take any satisfaction in what had happened. Especially considering the kind of man Hawk was. Nathaniel’s hand faltered, his smile fading, shame creeping in on schedule.
It was folly to feel any kind of hurt at the way he’d been summarily dismissed. After Hawk had ejected him from the bed, he’d returned to his place in the corner sticky with oil and seed. He’d cleaned himself, feeling sick to his stomach.
Yet when he’d woken, he’d wished the seed were still inside him, that he could feel the evidence between his fingertips, even though the swollen rawness of his arse reassured him that not a moment of it had been imagined. Now guilt and silly hope seesawed inside him like the rocking of the ship on the tide.
What had he thought? That fucking would change anything about his circumstances—that Hawk would hold him close like a lover? Kiss him?
This was the man who’d promised to gut him if Nathaniel’s father didn’t pay his ransom. As much as Nathaniel tried not to dwell on that possible outcome, he couldn’t expect the fact that Hawk had fucked him to change his fortunes.
And yet… Hawk had been inside him. He’d been gentle and encouraging. He’d watched Nathaniel with something new in his blue eyes, an attentiveness like he’d really seen Nathaniel for the first time.
He’d confessed to sharing the same nature, and it still sent a thrill through Nathaniel to know he wasn’t alone. He’d felt the throb of Hawk’s prick in his very core, had been filled with his seed. He’d given Hawk not only his trust, but his very self. Would Hawk still be able to kill him if the time came?
Turning away from the bed, Nathaniel huffed in frustration. He knew he shouldn’t make more of fucking than it was. They weren’t lovers. Hawk had taken his pleasure as most men would when offered it. That he wasn’t brutal about it meant nothing.
Desire pulsed through him at the idea of being mastered, and Nathaniel cursed his lust. Yet the thought remained: I want to do it again.
If only he could speak to someone about it. He’d finally found a man like him, yet he was still alone. He’d fornicated, and it was glorious, and the idea of marrying Elizabeth Davenport was more unthinkable than ever. Should he even survive. Should his father pay the ransom.
