Page 27 of Paid to the Pirate

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That evening, I planned to sup with Miguel once more, but he told me I’d be dining later with the captain, in his quarters. Conks and Johnson were already in the galley, making it impossible to have any candid conversation about my past with the quiet cook.

Instead of a meal, I was offered ale, and I drank it all quickly to steel my courage. It wasn’t long before the spirit worked its soothing magic on my limbs. Meandering the ship, I once again heard the rest of the crew dining above, singing and laughing, and it evoked in me a feeling akin to wistfulness. I didn’t know what to call the sensation; it wasn’t quite a memory, but it was more than just a longing. When their voices rose in song, I felt a familiar yearning.

Troubling, indeed.

I made my way above deck and watched the men from a distance. After they finished eating, someone brought out a fiddle and they clapped and danced together. Had I another glass of ale, I might have joined them -- counter to my very vow to bring down these corrupt men from within.

Well, maybe notallthe men are evil,I reasoned.They were subject to Colt’s whims, same as I. It’s really just the sinister captain I need to bring to justice. And Redhands,I added.

Too quickly the sun set into the sea and a taunting moon shone above. All thoughts of revelry were wiped from my mind when Colt came to collect me. Even in the moonlight, I could see the lust shining in his eyes, making me blush.

What is he going to do to me now?

Like the previous evenings, Colt marched me to his cabin. Each time that door slammed, my fate was sealed. I knew within these walls whatever happened would be whatever he decreed. No one would come to my aid, and I couldn’t overpower Colt.

He knew it too. As soon as I turned to face him that strange sensation ran between us, linking us, quickening my breath, and his.

Unlike other evenings, the table had been laden with a meal I could scarcely examine without feeling like I might be sick.Who could eat under threat of Colt the Cruel?

The captain strode leisurely to the table and sat, eying me with expectation. I did not move. He could make me do all sorts of sinful, wretched things, but I refused to turn around and dine at his table with false civility.

Colt raised his eyebrows and I didn’t like the satisfaction gleaming on his face. It felt like the drop of some handkerchief, calling a game to begin. A game in which I was an unwilling participant.

“Lift your skirts and sit down,” Colt drummed his fingers against the tabletop, casually, while my face heated with fury. “Legs spread. Do not close them.”

I wanted to scream at how easily he’d said such horrific things.

“No.”

“You can spread your legs and bare your cunt of your own free will or I will belt your cunt until it hurts too much to close your thighs.” Colt leaned back, languid, expectant. I wanted to throttle him yet it didn’t stop the throb between my legs.

“How is it my free will if you threaten me otherwise?” I spat, hands balled into fists. I was doing that so much lately that I was probably digging half-moon dents from my fingernails permanently into my flesh.

Colt flashed a half-smirk. “Fair point. I stand corrected. But the choice remains. You can bare your cunt while we dine, free of pain, or I can bare it for you, throbbing from my lesson.”

Tears of humiliation pricked my eyes. I clapped my hands over my ears in an almost laughable manner, but I couldn’t help myself. “Stop saying that word!”

Colt tilted his head and stood slowly. Such a slow rise made quick work of racing my pulse. It was better when he sat. Safer.

“What word is that?” Grabbing my waist too fast for me to react, Colt pressed my body against his. Lowering his mouth to my ear, he whispered, “Cunt?”

I shivered.

“Your barecunt,Lady Charlotte?”

His breath warmed my neck as Colt continued, “I suggest you get used to hearing the word. I’m about to do much more than say it. I’m about to see it.”

That hot feeling rose in my chest again as Colt drew the tip of his nose along my neck,inhaling.Me? Soft lips and prickly stubble rubbed my skin as he said, “You’re going to reveal that cunt to me. At my command. For my pleasure.”

My hands hung limp with indecision -- slap him… or curl my fingers around those biceps and plead for him to move his hands lower, to relieve the ache in my…

No.

What was wrong with me?

Abruptly, Colt released me, making me angrier for some reason. He returned to his chair, leisurely slung one arm over the back, and cocked a brow.

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