Moment of Weakness - Sequel to 'A Pirate's Plaything'

BEX

His large male hand was caressing over the mound of one breast. Leaving a trail of eager sweat on my body. As his palm flattened over the rising peak of it, my ragged breaths made it lift and fall. Inviting him to touch me more.

His other hand slipped around the curve of my hip. Lovingly tracing every rounded turn of my body. His eyes, which were nearly black, glittered in the dark ship’s cabin as he slid his body possessively over mine.

My knees, with a will of their own, separated to make way for his hips. Allowing him to connect with me. He slid the hard root of his body through the center of my hips to fully implant within me. My back arched and I gasped at the sweet intrusion.

The feel of him was taking me over. From the inside, out.

“Lie to me again, Allison.” He purred. Those words echoing in my ears throughout endless spans of time. Reminding me, always reminding me of our initial confrontation. Which had begun the first time he’d laid his eyes on me and known the truth. Despite that I was trying to convince him I was naught but a cabin boy.

But he’d known from the start.

And he was far too cruel to let that kind of insult against his intelligence stand.

He’d methodically proven I was all woman, from head to toe.

He’d spent plenty of time tracing his hands over every inch of me. Teaching me what set my body on fire.

Then he betrayed me.

He’d let his crew have me after they’d caught me trying to escape. He’d given them permission to hurt me in every way they could. They’d bent me over and had their way with me.

They’d hurt me. All while he’d sat there like a king on his throne, unmoved by the pitiful sounds I’d made.

Which made me hate him all the more.

He’d told me later that I’d given him no choice. That letting those evils happen was the only option I’d given him by running from him like I had, if he’d wanted to keep worse from happening to me. He’d advised me that had he refused them, they’d have cast him overboard and tortured me until eventually I’d starved or perished from the abuse.

After that, I’d promised myself that I’d never again be a victim. I’d plotted and studied, until I knew what to do.

Then Lucien had let me betray him, in turn.

He’d known, all along, what I had done that night I’d poisoned his crew. He hadn’t moved as I burned the ship to hide the evidence. He’d watched me the whole time.

He knew what I was doing hunkered behind that barrel. I’d watched them all consume dead blood.

All but him.

He’d smelled the poison in his dish. He’d known who’d done it. But he hadn’t said a word to them, as his crew greedily ate their desserts. Beginning to choke and spasm. Falling to the deck in agony.

Even then, he was regal, unmoving as he watched them with a dispassionate gaze.

He’d been aware of the crime he was committing as much as I was the one, I had.

I was punishing them all for what they’d done to me. And I was protecting the tiny life that had begun growing in my body, from the first few days he and I were together.

But that fire had not been the end of it.

He’d risen from the ashes, walked from the sea, and come to find me.

One look at me and he knew my secret, knew what I carried.

In exchange for letting him protect her, he’d sworn he’d respect my wish for freedom. Until…The day I had a weak moment and gave in to my ravenous desire for him.

He’d warned me that should that happen, he would be keeping me.

I’d be his captive again.

I can’t ever do that.

Lucien had almost taken everything from me once. I was never going to give him that opportunity to do it again.

I have too much to lose now.

In my dreams though, on nights like this one, the time we’d spent together was forever replayed in my head. Every touch. Every panted breath. Every dizzying climax.

Sometimes those were worse than the nightmares about what he’d let his crew do to me. They were far more haunting, and they made me yearn for something that I could never have.

Him.

The man that held me captive and let me be tortured before him.

The father of my daughter. Her protector.

I awoke. Dragging myself from the dream. My body was still sticky with sweat and aching with arousal. That was what made it so difficult to wake from those memories. I often wondered what it would be like if he were just a man, rather than an immortal monster.

Would I have washed him from my head by now?

Probably. I guessed this ability to haunt me with desire was part of his creature allure.

I rolled to my side to examine the cot next to my bed. Peering into the dark to glimpse the small frame sunk into the bedding. Since the frame was made from an old ship sail, the fabric had a lot of give. Dangling from the wood framing like a hammock.

The slim outline of the girl was nearly swallowed within it. Even in the dead of night, the boy’s cap was pinned to her head. Hiding the soft, dark hair beneath. Her small hand dangled over the edge of the cot. Her fingers twitching at every breeze that brushed across them. Much like a crocodile rests with its mouth open, ready to snap its jaws on prey.

I gripped the delicate fingers and gave them a gentle squeeze. Not enough to wake her, but enough to assure me she was real.

The feeling was so familiar to her that she didn’t wake.

I knew the sad truth, but it was getting harder to face. Soon I wouldn’t be able to take her out on runs with me anymore.

It’ll be too obvious what she is…