Page 62 of Kidnapped by the Pirate
Yet Hawk seemed in no rush, easing out his softening member inch by inch, one rough hand smoothing up and down Nathaniel’s spine. In his wake, Nathaniel felt incredibly stretched and unbearably empty.
When Hawk was free, Nathaniel flopped on his belly with legs spread, grains of sand sticking everywhere, too drained to care. He folded his hands under his cheek and closed his eyes, waiting for Hawk to tug him to his feet and back to the ship.
The rain eased slightly, still steady and cool on his fevered skin. Hawk’s callused palms caressed Nathaniel’s arse, then opened him to the rain, cleaning him with fingertips that were shockingly gentle after the fierceness of their coupling.
Then his tongue was there, textured and marvelous, beard bristly against Nathaniel’s tender, used hole. He licked and kissed, surely tasting his own seed. The thought made Nathaniel’s spent bollocks twitch to life, a gasp on his lips, the wet sand too much against his soft, sensitive cock.
Hawk spread Nathaniel wide, poking into him with his tongue. Nathaniel groaned. “You can’t make me release again. It’s impossible.”
That was how he found himself on his back, wet sand in many crevices, the downpour fortunately washing much of it away. Hawk cupped his hands to the rain, gathering water to rinse Nathaniel’s groin of any lingering sand.
He breathed hard between Nathaniel’s bent legs, staring down at him with carnal purpose, a devil’s smile curving his full lips.
Groaning again, Nathaniel said, “That wasn’t a dare. Simply a statement of fact.”
Hawk closed one damp fist around Nathaniel’s shaft, his other hand reaching down to press just so against the sensitive skin behind his balls.
A lightning bolt of pleasure struck, stealing Nathaniel’s breath. His whimper trailed into a laugh. “I bet you’ll do anything to prove me wrong, won’t you?”
The rain tapered off, stars shedding a little more light as the clouds dissipated. Hawk laughed too, not a derisive bark or triumphant shout, but soft and true. His face was shockingly boyish, creased with his grin, hair plastered to his head and skin soaked.
He tracked his knuckles down Nathaniel’s cheek, then brushed them over his lips. Nathaniel’s heart hurtled back to a gallop as Hawk leaned down, his expression unmistakably tender, eyes searching as though he could read some answer upon his face.
For a heart-stopping moment, Nathaniel was sure Hawk would kiss him. That he would press their lips together and share breath in an intimacy Nathaniel imagined would be more profound than any of the fucking they’d done.
Then the mask slipped back into place, and Hawk’s smile went positively feral.
Before Nathaniel could hope to think of a response, Hawk pulled Nathaniel’s arse up onto his thighs. He was splayed under the stars, writhing and utterly wanton for the world to see, Hawk’s head buried between his legs, licking and sucking his spent cock and balls mercilessly.
It was one wager Nathaniel was only too happy to lose.
Chapter Seventeen
So much cursed sand.
Even though Hawk hadn’t taken off his clothes, it had burrowed everywhere. Under the large canvas tent, he shifted on the scattered collection of pillows and blankets that made his bed. A table from the mess and his desk chair stood nearby.
Clad only in a too-big white shirt, Nathaniel slept curled on his side with his back against Hawk’s chest, Hawk’s arm slung around him. The sides of the tent hung loose, flapping in the morning breeze, sunlight dancing in and making the tip of Nathaniel’s ear glow.
Hawk didn’t know what sorcery had taken hold of him, but beholding Nathaniel in the rain, naked and beautiful with delight, lean muscles gleaming, he’d wanted to do anything Nathaniel asked. Anything to keep him so happy, so free.
Maybe he was a sea nymph, spinning some kind of magic. Although perhaps not, given how he’d splashed out without a thought to the currents, especially with the wind whipping.
Even now, Hawk’s heart skipped a beat as he imagined Nathaniel disappearing under those dark waves and never resurfacing.
What the fuck is the matter with me?
The chorus of “Heave!” as most of the crew hauled the ship onto her side filled the air. Hawk glimpsed them as the tent flapped open, ropes taut as lines of men took turns pulling, the Manta’s hull being revealed to the merciless sun, a mess of barnacles evident along with boards that needed replacing and God knew what else.
Hawk should be out there supervising, encouraging, lending a hand himself given their tight turnaround. He had a job to do, and it wasn’t to stay secreted away in his tent with their prisoner in his arms.
But God, he just didn’t care anymore.
Part of him wished the men would take the ship and leave him and Nathaniel be. For so many years, the sea had been his home, and he had no doubt now he’d had his fill. Snell had said he wouldn’t be able to leave the pirate life behind, but Hawk knew he must.
