She slid her arms around his neck. “Only because you’ve corrupted me.”
An odd look crossed his face, but was gone so quickly it might not have been.
He stood and pulled her close, his mouth searching hers. She giggled, tugged away from him, and ran toward the barn. He caught her with several long strides and swept her into his arms.
Inside the barn, he placed her on her feet. He licked and kissed the side of her neck, sucking gently until she writhed. Sparrow covered her hands with his as they cupped her breasts. His thumbs brushed her nipples and she uttered a contented sigh. Lock undressed her, tossing her clothes into a pile of hay. Squatting in front of her nude body, he grasped her hips and pressed his face to the thatch of hair between her legs. His tongue tickled her clit before he turned her around, slapped her buttocks and nudged her towards a trunk beside Sea Storm’s stall.
“Face the trunk on your knees,” he ordered, discarding his clothes and dropping them beside hers.
Sparrow glanced over her shoulder at him, her belly fluttering. Whenever he ordered her into a particular position, she knew indescribable joy would soon follow. There seemed to be nothing Lock didn’t know about pleasures of the flesh, not that she was one to judge. Prior to meeting him, she’d done no more than kiss a man.
She dropped to her knees, her forearms braced on top of the trunk. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as Lock approached and knelt behind her. One of his arms snaked around her waist, and he held her close. His cock brushed her buttocks, and she waited, her heart pounding, for him to penetrate. Instead he covered her back with kisses while his free hand reached around her and caressed her belly. He brushed her clit with his thumb. Anticipation and excitement already had her wet for him, but she knew from experience he never took her quickly, but made certain she was well prepared. Gathering moisture from her pussy, he explored her soft folds and rubbed her clit. One of his fingers slipped inside her and gently caressed the top of her pussy. Sparrow moaned softly. She felt his chest rumble with laughter as he continued stroking her. His tongue ran down her spine, and he moved slightly, licking her lower back just above the parting of her bottom cheeks.
“Oh Lock, please,” she murmured.
He growled, his body covering hers. His cock entered her before he began leisurely thrusts while his arms stretched over hers. Their fingers entwined and Sparrow wiggled her hips in pleasure. Within moments, she learned his rhythm. It felt so wonderful being claimed by him, on her knees in a barn, with the wind howling outside.
“Lock! Oh, by the goddess!” she cried as an orgasm washed over her.
“I’m here, girl!”
“Oh!” she moaned, another climax building deep inside her.
This time when she came, she heard Lock’s ragged breath as his thrusts came faster and harder.
He panted, his voice jerky with lust, “That…old…bitch better not…hit me with…a broom again!”
With a growl of pleasure he came, his body surging into hers.
His cheek dropped to her back, his beard rough against her flesh as they sat, limp and panting until he finally moved. Tugging her against his chest, he kissed her hair.
“I suppose we should go back to the house,” Sparrow murmured.
Lock grunted in reply and gathered their clothes.
Sparrow loved Shea-Ann, but she had to admit feeling a little disappointed that she and Lock no longer had the entire farm to themselves.
* * * * *
Sparrow stirred and snuggled closer to Lock. She opened her eyes and saw that it was dark, probably close to midnight.
Part of her was still disappointed that he hadn’t admitted feeling any love for her. He’d said he wasn’t capable of love, but Sparrow didn’t believe it. He just had little experience caring for someone. His past had convinced him he couldn’t feel affection, but the future with her promised a new way of life for him—and her.
Lock turned in his sleep, his arm tightening around her, his head buried in her shoulder. No man who touched her like he did was incapable of love.
* * * * *
Sparrow sat astride Sea Storm, Lock behind her, holding the reins. Every now and then, she’d feel his arms tighten around her, and she glanced back at him and smiled. Beside them, Shea-Ann’s horse plodded. The healer kept glancing at Sparrow and the pirate as if she still couldn’t believe they were a pair.
The village gathering happened every autumn, and Sparrow looked forward to it. The market was open all day and there was music, dancing, games, feasts, and horse races.
“This will be a good day to haggle for new cloth,” Shea-Ann said. “I want to make some dresses for us, seeing how your only good one was ruined.”
Sparrow glanced at Lock and he shrugged. Neither of them had mentioned
how
the dress had been ruined. It was one of their secrets.
The sound of flutes, laughter, and conversation grew louder as they neared the village square and dismounted. For a fee, the blacksmith would board horses for the day, so Shea-Ann and Sparrow paid for their mounts, then headed for the village.
“I’m going shopping,” Shea-Ann said, “then I have rounds to make. I’ll meet you later.”
“Good riddance,” Lock muttered under his breath, and Sparrow poked him with her elbow.
“SothSea swine,” Shea-Ann said.
“Shriveled witch.”
“Murdering yak!”
“Buzzard!”
“That’s enough!” Sparrow snapped. “Both of you! You’re acting worse than children! Shea-Ann, go about your business, and Lock, close your mouth!”
Flinging one last goading look at the pirate, Shea-Ann disappeared in the crowded marketplace.
“It’s a wonder you’re as sweet as you are seeing how she raised you,” Lock said to Sparrow.
“You think I’m sweet?”
His teeth gleamed against his beard as he smiled and continued walking. Sparrow fell into step beside him, and they chatted about the farm when a voice interrupted them.
“So you’ve given him the liberty to walk alongside you?” the fisherwoman called from her cart.
“How I treat my slave is my business,” Sparrow told her. “Got any squid?”
The woman winked and beckoned her closer. “The best you’ll taste in these parts.”
Sparrow and Lock approached the cart and selected several pieces of squid. They brought the slippery meat across to one of the community fires in the square to cook it.
“My favorite breakfast,” Lock said, taking a bite of a dangling squid leg.
“I know.” Sparrow wrinkled her nose. “It’s really not the first thing I’d reach for in the morning, but I thought I’d indulge you this once.”
“This once? Seems you’ve been doing that for weeks.”
“What’s a little squid for all you’ve done for the farm? It’s never looked so good. All the repairs are made, and we’re stocked for the winter. At least we’ll be leaving Shea-Ann prepared.”
“You don’t want to leave, do you?”
Sparrow looked down at her hands. “I’ll miss it here, but I know you can’t stay.”
“Won’t stay,” he murmured. “For what you’ve done for me, I should stay to make you happy, but I won’t lie to you, Sparrow. It would last for a while, but I cannot live as a slave.”
“You’d end up resenting me. I know that.”
“And if we go, will you end up resenting me? Be honest.”
She sighed. “Maybe a little, but I’ve had to uproot before. I’m sure wherever we settle, I’ll be happy, as long as I’m with you. Besides, if we do have children, I wouldn’t want them to see you as my slave. It wouldn’t be right.”
“I’ve been thinking about where we can go when we leave here. We could go further south. Once we’re out of Begonia and I’m free, we could settle on the coast. I’ll work as a fisherman.”
“A fisherman?”
“I need to be at sea, Sparrow. I miss it.”
If she looked hard enough, she could almost see the ocean in his blue eyes. The sea was part of him, and wherever they went, he needed it, just as she needed him.
“Will you be happy as a fisherman?”
“It’ll be better than not being at sea. Once I earn enough, I can build a bigger ship and take up trading. Honest trade, this time.”
“You’re serious about this?”
“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”
She stared at him. The life he described sounded so good to her, but what would it be like for him? He was so wild, so passionate about everything. How happy could he be living as a fisherman, waiting for the chance to sail again? She wanted him to discard his criminal ways, but she didn’t want to kill his spirit.
“What’s going on there?” He nodded toward a gathering of women, men, and horses.
“It’s just a race. Exciting to watch. I always wanted to enter, but my horses aren’t fast enough.”
“Even Sea Storm?”
She laughed. “He’d probably win.”
Lock stood and squinted at the horses lined up facing the field outside of the village. “No doubt he would win, but not with me riding. I’m too big.”
“You couldn’t ride him, anyway, Lock. It’s for women only.”
“What are all those men doing there?”
“They’re slaves. They belong to the women entering the race. The winner gets to bed the one of her choice. She also collects prizes donated by the vendors.”
Lock noticed the ensemble of men, most tall, young, and muscular, all wearing arm bands like his.
“Enter,” Lock said.
“What?”
“You said you always wanted to race. Get Sea Storm and enter.”
“That would mean I have to put you up as a prize along with the others. Never.”
“Even if you lose—which you won’t—it’s nothing I haven’t done before.”
“It’s a risk I’m not willing to take.”
The
idea
of any other woman sleeping with Lock made Sparrow burn with rage.
Together, they joined the crowd waiting for the race to begin. Sparrow stared at the women mounted on tall, sleek horses, and her heart pounded. She’d always loved riding, and when she’d lived in the palace, had owned many fine, fast horses. Though she often rode Sea Storm at the farm, the thought of racing across the field and jumping fences while the rest of the village watched made her tingle. It had been so long…
“We have one more entry!” Shea-Ann shouted, and Sparrow’s eyes widened as the nanny strode up to the contestants, Lock behind her leading Sea Storm.
The blacksmith laughed and patted the neck of her big-boned black stallion. “You plan on riding, old woman? I thought you were a healer.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m a bad rider!” Shea-Ann approached Sea-Storm and attempted to mount the towering stallion.
Sparrow cursed softly. Was Shea-Ann losing her mind? The woman could just about ride her gentle, chubby mare.
“Shea-Ann, what are you doing?” Sparrow demanded, shoving her way through the crowd.
“You wouldn’t ride,” Lock said. “Shea-Ann was more than willing to put me up as a prize.”
Sparrow glared at her old nanny who shrugged. “Would you prefer to ride?”
“I’m not entering.”
A voice shouted, “Ready…Set…Off!”
“You see, it’s too late…” Sparrow’s sentence was cut off by her shriek of surprise as Lock tossed her onto Sea-Storm’s back and slapped the stallion’s rump hard.
* * * * *
Lock watched as the white stallion bolted, galloping after the flanks of the other horses.
“Are you mad!” Shea-Ann whacked Lock on the arm. “You could have gotten her killed!”
Lock smiled. “Sparrow will love it! Look at them. They’ve almost caught the others.”
Shea-Ann’s face was tense with fury. “I almost hope she loses and you have to bed someone like the blacksmith!”
Lock’s smile faded as he squinted at the muscular blacksmith and her stallion several lengths ahead of the others. If she did win, Lock hoped she’d been insulted enough by his comments weeks ago to never pick him. Knowing the big, blond bitch, she’d choose him for spite.
Win, Sparrow
, he thought to himself.
Don’t mess this up, damn it!
Lock clenched his fists, his heart throbbing madly as Sea Storm and Sparrow leapt ahead of the others, the white’s nose at the black’s hindquarters.
The blacksmith began beating her horse with a switch, and the animal leapt. Sparrow never touched Sea Storm but her body moved with his in an attempt to make the run as easy as possible for him. She was small and light in spite of her muscular build, much less burden than the thickly built blacksmith. Lock had trained Sea Storm well without breaking his spirit, and the stallion’s competitive nature surged with his speeding legs. Again he inched up on the black. Nose to nose they sailed over a fence in the center of the field.
Lock was aware of the crowd shouting and cheering around him, but his main focus was on the race. That night, he’d either be returning home with the Sparrow or screwing the damn blacksmith. He’d have to close his eyes and think of Sparrow to even attempt entering that beast-woman’s body. He thought of how she smelled like horses and five-month old sweat. She was too much like the gnarled pirates who pawed him as a boy.