Читать книгу The Pleasure of His Bed - Donna Grant - Страница 13

“Nothing like a good fuck with a pirate to get me excited!” Sophia breathed in his ear. “Nothing like overcoming the captain himself—having my way with him until he succumbs!”

She grasped his hands and raised his arms above his head on the rumpled bedclothes. Damon laughed raggedly as she nailed him in place against the mattress: he loved this playacting as much as she did, and he looked deliciously nefarious with a red bandanna tied over his dark hair and an eye patch from his medicine chest. The stitches along his jaw rendered him downright devilish.

“Arrr!” he growled. Then he lifted his head to take a nipple between his teeth.

Sofia squealed and bucked against him, driving his cock deeper inside her. How she loved being on top, riding this rigid staff and the sinfully sexual man it belonged to. He thrust upward, watching her eyes widen, wiggled his hips in a quick rhythm as he rubbed that sensitive nubbin that would drive her wild with need.

When her breast slipped from his mouth, Sofia sat up and gripped his hips between her knees. What a fine sight he made by lamplight, with his smooth muscles and skin slickened from their lovemaking. Lord, they’d been at it since he’d escorted her downstairs from supper! As his clock struck midnight, she remained in awe of his stamina—his ability to bring her to climax again and again, his willingness to pleasure her with his hands and mouth before he’d recovered from his previous climax…and the one before that.

It was sweet compensation for his unwitting little insults, wasn’t it? A tongue up her slit made up for many a slip of his tongue.

Sofia smiled, feeling feline. Damon Delacroix didn’t vex her on purpose. He was simply accustomed to being in charge of everything. Needed someone—her, namely—to teach him that receiving could be as good as giving and taking.

“You’re wearing me out, lover,” she murmured. Yet she couldn’t resist arching her back to wiggle her breasts at him.

“Thank God you’ll finally admit that!” he rasped. “I was wondering if you intended to sleep tonight. Not that I’m finished!”

She laughed as he wrestled her to the mattress to trap her beneath his powerful leg. “I don’t see how you can possibly come again after—”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” Damon’s kiss took her from playfulness to need so fast her head spun—and then he rolled on top of her. “This time, however, it’s my turn to ride, sweet creature. You’re to lie absolutely still—no thrusting to meet my hips, no wriggling to speed things up. I have to please you one last time before we collapse, just to prove I can!”

Yes, it was the captain’s almighty ego speaking, but who was she to argue? Sofia folded her hands beneath her head and settled deeper into his feather pillow. Morning—and galley duty—would come too soon, but for now she immersed herself in this fine, impassioned moment…in the crystalline glint in his eyes as he rocked against her hips…in the set of his jaw and the tightening of his chest as he increased his speed. The eye patch and that line of stitches on his stubbled cheek made him look so very dangerous. Bad to the bone and beyond redemption.

It was so difficult to lie there and just take it! And Damon knew that. In and out his member went, inciting fresh fires in flesh that had burned feverishly for hours now. She fought the urge to grip him with her inner muscles—he loved that! Her fingers itched to caress his smooth, damp skin—or to ruffle the coarse black curls framing his root. Or she could distance herself—could think of something else completely to make him labor in vain—but Sofia disliked such mental games. Far more exciting to play along—to feel the subtle thrum of her reawakening need.

“What a fine, feisty slave you are,” Damon whispered. He closed his eyes, maintaining the slick in-and-out while pressing into her pubic bone. “The line between captor and captive sometimes blurs, but for now—for this pièce de résistance—you are mine, sweet Sofia. Here to do my bidding. Here to climax at my command.”

Sofia followed his patter, allowing her body to flow with his. She would gladly become more than his slave, but it was too soon to fall for that fantasy, wasn’t it? She must assume the captain would either deliver her to New York and then depart or sell her at a port before they reached America. But in her fantasies, Damon Delacroix wanted her for all time, wanted her in all the ways she longed for him.

She felt the first stirrings deep inside, answered his thrust with hips that couldn’t hold still any longer. Her gasp echoed around his quarters like a wanton’s call.

Damon growled low in his throat, a wild wolf summoning his mate. She grimaced, caught up in the impending wildfire. The ropes beneath the mattress creaked more insistently while the sounds of skin slapping damp skin goaded them on. His face tightened with the effort of holding back, waiting for her to fly high and fast with his release.

“I’m…so ready to…explode.” He sucked air between his teeth, and his hips tucked inward. “But you’ve got to come along, my love. You’ve got to call my name and tell me when to—”

“Damon! Damon!” she panted. Sofia loosed her pent-up passion then: her mind spun into high, wild circles as she convulsed. Her head rose from the pillow, and the breath rushed from her lungs. “Please! Take me—shoot your cum up my—”

He gasped and poured forth. Again and again he drove himself inside her until she wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly against her breasts. Finally he collapsed. His breath tickled the hairs on her neck, slowing to normal over the next several minutes.

“Incredible. Absolutely…incredible,” he breathed. And before he rolled off her, Damon snored softly.

Sofia smiled in the flickering lamplight. It was one of life’s sweetest joys to cradle a sated lover…to know she’d satisfied him so thoroughly he had nothing left—not even the inclination for a sip of water before he fell asleep. His head found the crevice between her chin and shoulder, and he dozed peacefully.

Very carefully, Sofia reached beneath the spare pillow—the one she’d arranged against his bed head this afternoon. Ever so gently she tugged on the chain she’d hidden between the mattress and the post—didn’t move another muscle as she slowly drew the handcuff across the untucked sheet. Damon had been accommodating enough to stretch his arm across her chest, and with one quick click she attached him to his bed.

He smacked his lips and mumbled something unintelligible. Then he resumed his soft snoring.

Sofia eased from beneath his body, again moving slowly, alert to signs he’d awakened. When Damon was deep in sleep, she slipped to the foot of the feather mattress and gripped the leg iron she’d attached to the bed frame.

This would be trickier. She maneuvered the wide iron cuff around his ankle by pressing its opening into the soft mattress until it came up on the other side of his leg. The bedclothes muffled its click, and Sofia almost laughed aloud. Her lover was so exhausted he had no idea what had just happened to him.

Captain Delacroix was now her slave, held hostage in his own manacles!

She took a moment to admire his bare backside in the lamplight and the dip of his spine as it flowed into a strong back and broad shoulders that spanned the width of the pillow.

“Sleep tight, my love,” she whispered. And out the door she went.