Page 5 of The Lost Child

“All those men look at you like a meal, you know. But no one gets to touch. No one gets to feel. No one except me.”

He grabbed my wrists and pulled them back behind my back, holding them roughly with one hand. The angle forced me to arch my body back towards him.

On one hand I was pissed he was taking control and using me like a cheap whore. Yet on the hand, I was a bit intrigued. This was the first time Jagger had acted like this, and I wasn’t exactly protesting.

And for the first time, I was tempted to give it right back.

I experimented by meeting his thrust with my own, slamming back on his dick mid-thrust. His grip around me tightened.

“Christ, Rissa,” he gasped, not letting up on his pace. He yanked a braid free from my hair and wound it around his wrist, yanking hard. It hurt, but the pressure in my chest eased. Relaxed, even. That was how it always worked.

But as I continued to slam myself back, something else was happening. A pressure not only in my chest, but down in my core. I pushed against Jagger harder. Arched my back higher. He released my hair and wrists and instead wrapped an arm around my neck, squeezing tightly as he put pressure on my airway.

I didn’t tell him to stop.

And for the first time, I felt something. It was almost like an itch that needed scratching, and I was so close to doing it. I relaxed totally against Jagger, who was past the point of forming intelligible words as he kept moving against me and grunting. His dick moved smoothly inside me—in and out, in and out.

It was almost perfect.

My hips widened slightly as I slid one hand toward my center and that spot that needed attention. I burrowed my fingers up into my own body, taking one finger and giving one long stroke up through myself.

I swore, and Jagger was right behind me, hands loosening around me as he took the change of pace to push my hips down on his shaft. I found a small nub of flesh inside of me, and swirled around it in a circle. The pressure inside of me cracked, but didn’t break.

Jagger moaned, but I could only focus on me, and what was happening.

I flipped out of his reach and rolled on my back, fingers stroking myself madly. Vaguely, I was aware of Jagger following me, positioning himself between my legs. I let him go, focused on my own needs.

My fingers moved toward the top, above where Jagger’s dick moved in and out after he pushed himself in again. I shifted my angle, and then suddenly Jagger was hitting the perfect spot. I adjusted my fingers to match my thrust with his, sweat rolling down my back. I ripped open my top and attacked a breast with my free hand, pinching and rolling the delicate pink tip. Jagger’s lips closed around the other one and bit down, and the pressure inside my body exploded.

I cried out, and Jagger was right behind me with a long, loud gasp of his own. I pulled away even as he continued to finish inside of me, my own body still spasming from the aftereffects. Jagger fell back after a few moments, his limp dick withdrawing from me. His chest heaved with exertion. “See, I’m getting better at this.”

Irritation shot through me. Yeah, he’d really doneso muchwork.

“Just help me up. We have a lot of work to do.”

* * *

My steps were light as I made my way toward my father's office. Word was already traveling around the fortress about my success, and men who had always viewed me as ‘little Nerissa’ now gaped as they saw me in a new light. Gaitworth would be executed at dawn along with the first mate.

Then of course, there were a few other looks that came my way: looks that were lewd and full of jealousy. Where one pirate rose, another always fell. It was the way of things.

But for now, no one could bring me down. I’d added plunder, equipment, and men to my father’s company, as well as captured the target and brought him in alive for my father to deal with him. Another one of our competitors had been defeated! And all the while, I’d kept my little problem a secret.

A successful day indeed.

“Come in.”

My boots thudded against the wooden planks, expertly dodging the uneven cracks and holes in the floorboards. I knew them as well as my own reflection.

“Ah. You’ve returned,” my father acknowledged, lowering his quill and giving me his full attention. It was thrilling to have anyone’s full attention, but especially his.

“Would you like a debrief?” I offered lightly, keeping my eyes hard and my voice professional. “I’m sure you have already heard of our success, but I am more than happy to write up a report for you to consult at your leisure.”

Crusty Jack taught me to read and write though, not you. He’s at the bottom of the ocean now.

I pushed such thoughts away. A pirate’s life was a rough one. It was the sacrifice you made—complete control over your own destiny, in exchange to be forgotten in the end.

“Sit,” my father commanded, waving away my invitation and inviting me to the chair across from his desk.

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