Page 52 of Kidnapped by the Pirate
Hawk bucked his hips. “Like the first time?”
“Yes,” he breathed, massaging Hawk’s prick, rutting against him. At this rate they were going to spend in their trousers. He leaned down and caught Hawk’s gold earring between his teeth, then his lips, sucking the whole earlobe into his mouth, tracing the gold square with his tongue.
Lips wet at Hawk’s ear, he whispered, “Perhaps I’ll go down on my hands and knees for you or bend over your desk. Or spread my hands on the hull, brace myself and take your cock like I was born for it.”
Hawk groaned, and Nathaniel sat up just enough to see his face, Hawk’s lips parted and blue eyes dark with desire. Nathaniel leaned closer, thrumming with the need to kiss him—to seal this mysterious power between them that was like the ocean’s current, dragging them both under…
The knock preceded the door opening only by a moment, and Nathaniel jerked his head up, staring uncomprehendingly at Mr. Snell, his brain still struck by the idea of kissing Hawk until neither of them had breath, of rubbing his barely stubbled face against Hawk’s beard until his skin burned, their tongues entwined, consuming.
But Mr. Snell was drawing his pistol. “You little fuck! Get off him!”
Clutching the warm handle of the forgotten dagger, Nathaniel bolted up and scrambled back as Hawk shouted, “No!” and rolled to his knees in front of him. Pistol outstretched, Mr. Snell stared at them, huffing and shaking his head when realization set in.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Hawk.” He shoved the pistol back in his belt, lips a thin, grim line, his words clipped. “If you can tear yourself away from our prisoner—Walter Bainbridge’s brat, the rich, spoiled little shit whose only worth to us is a hundred thousand pounds—for a few moments, you’re needed on deck. Captain.”
Their arousal was obvious, and Nathaniel shifted, panting. Hawk stood and said evenly to Snell, “Lead the way, Mr. Quartermaster.”
Nathaniel watched them go, his breath freezing painfully, the need to see Hawk’s face again—to be acknowledged—greater than his body’s demand for air. Hawk apparently didn’t feel that tug, the current between them seeming to vanish easily for him, like the moon behind a bank of storm clouds.
Then Hawk looked over his shoulder and grinned, his eyes crinkling, the creases in his flushed cheeks practically dimples. When the door closed, their footsteps fading, Nathaniel could almost believe he’d imagined it. But no, it had been real, and it had been for his eyes only.
It was folly to chart Hawk’s smiles, trying to collect them for his own. Folly to crave Hawk’s caresses as much as the pounding of his cock, his soft chuckles as much as his fierce smirks.
Yet he couldn’t resist, for in these glimpses Hawk wasn’t hard muscle and bone, but shifting sand to be molded between Nathaniel’s toes.
Chapter Fifteen
At the bow, Nathaniel stood by the forestay under an ink-blot sky. The swath of stars stretched out beyond him, and from Hawk’s perspective at the helm, it was as though Nathaniel was sailing right through them.
There was a looseness in Nathaniel’s posture, his feet bare on the wet deck. Hawk’s too-big shirt billowed around him, untucked from his breeches, the knee fastenings undone.
When the rain came, Hawk had brought Nathaniel up, ignoring the sidelong glances of the crew, who appeared surprised Nathaniel wasn’t beaten black and blue after vomiting on Hawk several days earlier.
Said boots were soaked now, the damp leather chafing his feet. The wind and rain had pelted them, but only for a short time, the clouds clearing as the watch changed.
Hawk had also ignored Snell’s pointed glares and attempts to engage him in conversation. It was late now, the deck quiet. Hawk had missed evening mess trying to avoid Snell but made sure Nathaniel ate before he brought him up to the main deck.
It was time to sleep, but he did another round of the ship, ensuring everything was in order. There was no reason it shouldn’t be—no sails spotted, the seas and wind calm now, no need to drop their sea anchor.
Although he should have been sleeping himself, Snell approached, trapping Hawk on the port side near the stern. The breeze lifted strands of Snell’s thinning hair from his head. “Captain. There’s been a vote.”
Hawk’s heart skipped, and he tensed from head to toes. He managed to keep his tone casual. “I wasn’t aware there was an issue.” If they voted him out as commander… He didn’t know what the fuck he would do, and what of Nathaniel? No. This was Hawk’s ship. He couldn’t let it happen. Wouldn’t.
“The issue is the prisoner.” Snell cut a glance toward Nathaniel, far out of hearing range at the bow. “O’Connell made his case, and the men think he should be allowed up on deck during the day. Too hot now, being shut down there. He saved one of us, so they reckon he should get a taste of freedom.” He grimaced. “Little do they know he’s already had a taste of quite a few things in that cabin.”
