Bring Me the Horizon (7 page)

Cutler dislodged from the mysterious pull of her mesmerizing gaze and drew down to her mouth, her succulent mouth in need of kissing. “I won’t hurt you, turtle. Do not be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.” Her lips barely moved. “Not of what you might do, but of what I might.”

Blazes!
It took every scrap of restraint not to scoop her up and throw her onto his bed. He wrapped his arm around her waist, the need to press her body to his all-consuming.

She rose to meet his lips in a chaste kiss. The very air surrounding them crackled to life. He’d swear he felt the tangible sparks snap across his skin. The pale colors of modesty darkened with ribald desire. Gracie opened her mouth and Cutler did not deny her entrance. God, no. Her fingers dug into his flesh, gliding up to his shoulders to wrap around his nape, holding fast. Her fire seeped into his soul. Every point of contact, her hands on his chest, her thighs against his, her soft, exploring tongue, stoked a burning heat like nothing he’d ever experienced.

Cutler could not, with any certainty, say who controlled the ravaging kiss. The need for her was too great to master. He had to devour her, conquer her for his own. In blinding desperation, he backed Gracie into the barrel holding his wash basin. The basin clattered to the floor, water sloshing onto the wooden planks.

She counterattacked, shoving him until they slammed into the shelves secured to the wall, smashing the brace. Journals and maps scattered down.

Wet warm tongues lapped, twisted, tasted. Lost in her passion, he reveled in her attempt to dominate. But his flitting amusement was snuffed out by his own dominance.

Cutler spun her around to his desk. Gracie slipped on the spilled water. Her arm flung back to steady herself, knocking off his scales and parchment. The instrument clanged to the floor, papers fluttered everywhere. With him wedged between her knees, she had nowhere to go but to lie back. Trapped. Just as he wanted her.

No thoughts, save losing himself to her,
in
her, were coherent. He abandoned her mouth for the succulence of her throat. Her quickened breaths dampened his ear, driving him mad, and her roaming hands sought purchase on his back. His own hands groped and caressed her plentiful mounds of her chest. Skimming down the smooth planes of her stomach, he cursed the cloth between his palm and her naked body. His mouth followed a similar path from the dimple at the base of her throat to the crevice between her bosom. A small whimper escaped Gracie’s lips—enough incentive to delve the tip of his tongue deeper into the chasm of her cleavage.

He gathered the folds of her skirt, shoving the god-forsaken fabric to her waist. Her inner thighs were as smooth as alabaster marble against his palm. Higher he inched until Gracie grabbed his wrist, halting him just shy of her juncture.

Cutler leaned away, looking down into her youthful face. She was about to say something—a protest perhaps.

It made no sense, none whatsoever. But Cutler made a decision. He would not take her like the animal raging inside him wanted. Nor would he take her like a simple tup with a fine bit of fluff. He wanted to give Gracie pleasure he was sure she’d never experienced. He read it in the pinch of her brow.

“I have trusted you far more than I should have, Gracie. ’Tis time you show me the same respect. Trust me,” he said. “Give into the desire burning inside you.” He bent to her and whispered. “This part of our bargain will be enjoyable for us both. I can promise you.”

“I do not want to disappoint you. Um, to, er, fulfill the accord in full.”

Ah, so she found this more than an act of business, as well. And he recognized the look in her eyes. ’Twas the look he had seen on the innocent daughters of governors, lord proprietors, and businessmen—girls stricken with fantasies of a pirate captain who fawned over him. Cutler had made a few of those girls women. He loved the thrill of seduction and the stolen trysts—until Antonia. A coy game betwixt them turned into disastrous love.

Gracie’s sweet, soulful gaze should frighten him. Have him removing her from his cabin. He had no need for another Antonia.

But Gracie was not Antonia.

She did things herself. Not using others to do her bidding. This woman, as scared as she was, would see things through to the end because of her love and loyalty.

Cutler wanted her all the more. “’Twould be impossible to disappoint me, love.”

He kissed her, gentle at first, then with more fervor.

She released his wrist—her white flag of surrender.

Like a beacon on the horizon, warmth from her juncture beckoned. Under the pleats of her dress, he palmed her moist folds. A whimper encouraged him to finger her wet heat. Her kisses fragmented, as if it took considerable effort to concentrate.
Splendid.

He dipped his digit through her downy crevice before delving inside. Her breath hitched and she broke from the kiss. With his thumb, he rubbed her nubbin while stroking his finger in and out. Her eyes wide, impassioned, locked onto his. She could hardly draw a breath. Damn, so tight, so inviting.

But more than that, he wanted her to be indebted to him for how he made her feel. He had to have her shatter under his ministrations.

Staccato moans and inaudible words grew louder with each dip and roll of his fingers.

“Let go, Gracie. Let go.”

“Please, Cutler... I can’t... No more.”

“Nay.” He inserted another digit. Holding her wriggling bottom by her hip, he prevented her from scooting away. Cutler saw the ascension of pleasure build in her expression. She grasped his arm, the table, her hair, anything to hold onto. The walls of her cunny tightened around his thrusting fingers as the vice around his heart unclenched. Her musical cries of release were a wondrous melody.

She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes upon. ’Twasn’t just the throes of the heated moment either. Gracie was more than a woman with which he had an accord, more than a conquest. She fascinated him in ways he hadn’t imagined.

Perhaps ’twas because he’d grown older. Perhaps he had tired of the effort it took around pretty ladies, to woo them, to please them. A day or two of fine distractions was all he wanted of them. His needs were met—frequently. But
were
they really? There was something about Gracie that made him question that. Was there something more he was missing? Something more than knocking about? Was she healing his heart? Was it possible, or had he tripped up, let down his carefully guarded commandment to not fall for a woman again?

Too much thinking. He would dissect what all this meant another time. Meantime, he would enjoy this evening and overindulge on the divine spread before him.

As her vision returned, Gracie quivered. She didn’t know her body could burst into a million bits like glittering specks of gold dust and still remain in one piece. ’Twas an amazing, euphoric feeling. Heavens, her core still tingled. She understood, now, why Rodrigo came around. Only
he
never made
her
feel this way.

Cutler placed a kiss below her ear. “Next time, I shall use my tongue.”

A scandalous, wicked idea. Dear Lord, she hoped there would be a next time.

“That was...” She shook her head, unable to find words that didn’t make her sound silly or childish. “I want to make you feel the same way you...” Confound it. She was acting like some naive, virginal lamb. She huffed and raised to her elbows. “Your turn.”

A crooked grin spread across his lips. He nodded. “Indeed, it is.” He trailed his damp finger from her bottom lip, over her chin, and down her throat to the valley of her chest. A heady scent—her scent—swirled to her nose awakening her body once more.

Cutler shrugged off his tunic and freed himself from his trousers.

Holy Mother of God. His shaft stood out long and proud. The tip of his crown glistened. He was a majestic design of manhood. Was it as hard as it appeared? Gracie couldn’t help herself. She touched him, surprised by the velvety feel of something so solid. Her fingertips lightly skimmed up to the head of wetness at the tip. It twitched of its own accord.

“Christ, woman.” Cutler growled and clutched her chin. She didn’t mind. Gracie loved that he distracted her from her intimate curiosity with his spellbinding kisses—kisses that lasted even as he rubbed his shaft through her folds, coating himself with the cream he created.

Her heart stopped beating with anticipation. And as he eased himself inside, stretching her entrance to receive him, she sighed. A surprising need to become one with him befell her; not to countdown the minutes to when he was done. She reveled in the feel of him, thick and whole.

Lord help her, as he began to slide in and out, back and forth, the friction built to a fevered pitch. She gripped his lower back and lifted her hips, trying to force him in deeper, to ride her harder. ’Twas what she craved.

Cutler planted his palms to the desk on either side of her head. He increased his speed, pumping faster. Her shoulders grated against the wood-grained desk intensifying all feeling—pleasure and pain. Breaking away from the rhythmic thrusts, he stared down at her, eyes hooded, teeth bared. Her pants came out in raspy moans. Harder and harder they rocked, neither unlocked their gazes. She couldn’t, wouldn’t be the first. She wanted to see his beautiful, clear eyes when he exploded.

Digging her nails into his arse encouraged him to lance her once, twice more before he seized. Cutler threw his head back in a roar and withdrew, wetness dribbled upon her thigh. Satisfaction and delight swelled within Gracie knowing she was the cause. But the blissful gratification masked another, more dangerous emotion. One she wasn’t sure she could stop.

Cutler pulled Gracie up to sit. He gazed at her for a long moment, his clear eyes stormy. What was he thinking? She wished she could peer into his soul and see if his thoughts mirrored her own.

He pressed his lips to hers. “That was amazing. You were amazing,” he said.

“Amazing,” she repeated. “Did I fulfill our accord to your satisfaction, Captain?” she teased.

“Aye. More than you know, turtle. But now we will get naked and let me properly take you in my bed.”

CHAPTER 6

The tinny sound of a boat’s bell harkened in the start of a fresh bountiful day. Small crafts weaved through the tapestry of glistening water around larger vessels anchored in the Matanzas harbor. Men and women stood in bumboats selling wares and haggling prices with sailormen leaning over the gunwales of ships. Seagulls swooped overhead through the naked masts on generous coastal breezes. St. Augustine waters were alive with as much activity as on the docks. Supplies were ferried, pulleys and ropes creaked with pallets of boxes or nets of barrels. Men grunted and hollered as they pulled the provisions on board vessels.

Gracie stood at the rails watching the goings-on. Her mood was as much of a flurry of excitement as the men’s good-natured chatter about fresh rations of liquor. She had shared a glorious night with Cutler. He was both primal and gentle, oscillating between unbridled tupping and sweet love-making. Somewhere along the way, she lost herself with him. In his arms, a crazy feeling elated her, like floating on the mists of a waterfall, buoyant and colorful.

She had awakened curled into him, naked flesh to flesh, sometime in the early morning—the sky beyond his windows still cloaked in darkness. She’d snuggled deeper into his warmth, breathing his musk, and had fallen back to sleep. When she woke the second time, he was gone. He had left her alone in his cabin—a sign of trust. Take that, Antonia.

Now, as she looked out across the harbor at two more ships as large as
Rissa
, her excitement muddled with anxiousness. Soon she would be face to face with the man who took her sister. And she had every intention of making him pay for what he had done.

“That grand ship is Captain Fox’s
Triumph
.” Cutler sauntered up beside Gracie, pointing to the ship directly across from them.

She glanced at his profile, itching to rub her knuckles down his stubbled cheeks, as she had done last night. Mercy, he was beautiful. Mayhap when this was over, she’d get the chance again.

“The
Triumph
,” she said. “A name like that sounds pretentious.”

“A ship is only as prosperous as her crew,” he said.

“And captain.”

He bent low to drip husky whispers into her ear. “Aye. A captain who can lead her to uncharted horizons and discover and conquer bountiful treasures. Relentlessly, I might add.”

A shiver stole over her skin, stirring her most private spots.

He chuckled, steering the conversation back into safer waters. “And that one there, beyond the
Triumph
is
Sablewing
, Carrion’s bucket.”

That drew her attention away. “So we will be boarding his ship?”

“
We
won’t be boarding anything.
I
will meet him at his favorite drinking hole in port.”

“But I’m coming with you.” He didn’t think he’d leave her behind, did he? ’Twas absurd. She had to go.

“No. It’s too dangerous, turtle.” He swiped at a wayward tendril of hair caught on her forehead. Too quickly, she popped his hand away.

“You mustn’t deny me. I need to see Carrion. I have something to say to him.” Her voice crackled with fear and anger. She swallowed against the growing lump in her throat.

Cutler tilted his head down as if reprimanding a child. “I will relay any message you wish to give, but you will stay on this ship and out of harm’s way. There is no argument.”

Gracie drew in a fiery breath. “Richard is right. You are a stubborn arse!”

His brow shot up. “Richard? When have you spoken to Richard?”

Suddenly, she regretted her temper and blurting out Richard’s name. “I...”

He slapped the railing. “Cough up your clack,” he barked. “When have you spoken to him? Have you been prowling my ship when you were to be in your cabin?” The lash of his harsh accusation stung.

She struggled to recover from the bite. “I may make questionable decisions, but you charge me with being a fool.”

“Which is accurate, lass, if you are putting yourself at risk amongst a crew of pirates. Pirates who might find a pretty pullet temptation enough to go against the laws of this ship. Thus, your foolishness could land
them
in trouble.”