Guilty Pleasures (3 page)

“Aye, Captain!” Nestor called. Still buried deep in Violetta, Nestor picked her up and walked slowly from the bedchamber.

Hawke handed Carla a large towel. “Dry yourself off,” he said. “I’m not of a mind to fuck a woman who is so oily she keeps slipping out of my grasp.”

“Go to hell!” Carla snapped. She hadn’t ordered this man up—or had she when she had hoped for something more exciting in her fantasy? Well, she would tolerate him as long as he amused her. Would he amuse her? She glared up at him.

“You’re a disobedient wench, aren’t you?” he said drily.

“I am not a wench,” Carla protested. “I am Captain Raven of the good ship
Venus
. I am very well respected here along the Spanish Main. As for you, I have never heard of a Captain Hawke.” She snatched the towel from him and stood to wrap it about her as she stepped carefully from her tub.

“I’ve been gone back to England for several years,” he said, “which is why some thief was able to lose
my island
to you in a card game.”

“Possession is nine-tenths of the law, sir,” Carla told him. “And I am in possession of Amorata Cay;
and
’tis I who built this house. If this island belonged to you, why was there no sign of human habitation, or at least a caretaker to protect your interests, sir? No person with their wits about them runs off, leaving their land unattended.” She took an edge of the towel and slowly dried her arms.

“Was the fellow who played cards with you a short, plump man with a face like a cherub’s and a bald pate?” Hawke asked.

Carla nodded.

“He was my caretaker. I imagine he went to Jamaica for a bit of recreation, drank too much, and got in over his head with the cards. Perhaps you even cheated him,” Hawke said insultingly. “You are a notorious pirate, after all.”

“I don’t have to cheat at cards,” Carla told him as she bent to rub the excess moisture from her legs, all the while attempting to keep the rest of her anatomy covered. “Luck seems to follow me. Anyone can tell you that. What were you doing in England that took you so long to return here?”

“Inheriting a dukedom,” Hawke told her. “My uncle died of plague, along with his sons, his grandsons, my father, and my elder brother, who had two daughters but no son. I became the heir to the dukedom of Falk—much to my distress, I might tell you. I far prefer pirating to dancing attendance at court and siring an heir on a suitable virgin. However, having done what was expected of me, I have now returned to the Caribbean to tie up some loose ends. I mean to sell Amorata Cay before I go back to England.”

“You are wed?”

“Aye, and sired one son. Venetia is pregnant with another child. She is a sweet if dull girl, but I promised her I would be home before she whelps her second,” Hawke replied sanguinely. “I’ve actually become quite fond of her.”

“If you can prove to me that Amorata Cay is actually yours,” Carla said, “I will buy it from you. I am in no mood to be dispossessed. However, I will not be gulled into giving you gold unless you can produce a document of ownership that will withstand the scrutiny of Governor Morgan’s judges. And if it does, we will conclude the sale then and there in Jamaica with the governor witnessing the deed.”

“On one condition,” Hawke said.

“Conditions? You wish to set conditions?” Carla was beginning to become annoyed. “You admit that I have been cheated by a man in your employ, and now you would make conditions with me?”

“I can prove my claim, madam,” he said quietly. “And when you have been satisfied that my claim is just, I would remind you that I can dispose of Amorata Cay in any fashion I see fit. I can auction it, sell it to the highest bidder, even destroy it. So aye! I will make the conditions by which you, and you alone, will be allowed to purchase my legal property for yourself, Captain Raven.”

Carla was intrigued by this unexpected situation in which she found herself. She had the feeling that she should probably end this fantasy right now for good and all. She had wished for a little danger, but this man was not of her making. Where had he come from, and how had he invaded her fantasy? Yet despite her instincts she couldn’t seem to resist following this story line to its conclusion, if indeed there was a conclusion. “Name your terms,” she finally said. “I will meet them.”

“You will give yourself to me in whatever manner I desire,” Hawke began, “and you will remain mine until this matter is settled. My deed for Amorata Cay will be sent to Governor Morgan in Jamaica for a decision. While his judges debate the matter, you will remain a slave to my lustful nature. When my deed is proven legal and true, I will allow you to purchase the island from me for one thousand pieces of eight. Then I will leave, and you will never see me again. It is a fair and reasonable bargain.”

“It is, unless of course you are lying and your deed proves to be false,” Carla said. “And if it does, I have allowed you the privilege of my body for naught.”

“My deed is not false,” he told her with assurance. “But if the court rules against me, you may have your revenge on me in whatever manner you choose.”

Carla smiled a slow and wicked smile. “In that case I would make you my slave,” she said, “and use you to satisfy the lust of any man who desired you.”

His handsome features darkened briefly with anger at her words, but then he held out his hand to her. “I will agree to your conditions if you will agree to mine,” he said.

One hand clutching her towel, Carla took his hand in a firm shake. “Agreed!”

A wolfish smile touched his thin lips. With a sudden quick movement, he snatched the towel from her. “On your knees, bitch!” He snapped the command.

Carla gasped, surprised to have been taken so offguard. A little cry escaped her lips as his big hand grasped a handful of her short, dark curls, his fingers tightening about the silken hair, slowly forcing her to the required position. Her knees touched the bare mahogany floor.

“Now,” he said in a hard voice, “I will go into the bedroom, and you will crawl after me until you are at my feet. I want you flat upon the floor, wench, abasing yourself to me. Remember, you have agreed to do all I command.”

“A little fucking, aye, but this?” Carla protested.

“Disobedience will be punished,” Hawke promised her. “Do you want Amorata Cay or not, wench? If you want it, you will earn it, not just pay for it. Now, crawl!” And he turned to walk back into the bedroom, going to stand before the open French doors.

Carla was angry, but at the same time, she was intrigued by what was happening. She had never heard of anyone being killed or otherwise harmed while in the Channel. That being the case, she decided to follow this through, because he obviously had something that she wanted: a little excitement in her old program. Flattening herself to the floor, she crept after him.

Upon reaching the French doors, Hawke turned to see if she was obeying him. He had gotten a good look at her naked body when he had taken the towel from her. She wasn’t very tall, standing no more than five and a half feet in height. She had full round breasts, a tiny waist he wagered his hands could span, and shapely limbs. He watched through narrowed eyes as she crawled toward him. Her nicely rounded bottom wanted attending to, and that would be his first order of business. He seated himself on an upholstered pale blue settee next to the doors, and when she reached him, he said, “Put yourself over my knees, wench, so I may punish your earlier disobedience. Be quick now! I’ll not tolerate any further refusal to obey my directives.”

Ohhh,
Carla thought excitedly.
He’s going to spank me. I’ve never included spanking in this program, unless it was me doing the deed
. She rose slowly, letting him see her naked form at his leisure. “Do not be cruel, Hawke,” she said to him as she draped herself gracefully across his lap.

“You will refer to me properly, wench, as ‘my lord,’ or ‘your grace,’ ” he told her. The plump white buttocks before him were bold in their stance. Captain Raven needed a good hard spanking. One hand descended to meet her delicate flesh as the other held her firmly by the back of her neck to prevent any serious struggle.

Carla squealed as the big hand delivered its first smack. It stung. The hand continued without ceasing as her tender bottom grew pink and hot with his blows. Despite the hand on her neck, she found herself able to wiggle a protest at the length of his punishment. Finally he stopped, the big hand rubbing her burning flesh soothingly.

“I expect you will now remember your place, wench,” he said to her. “Now, lie still, for I have a little something for you. His hand wedged between her legs. She was wet. “You’re a lusty little thing,” he approved. A single finger scooped some of her sticky cream, and then he thrust that finger up her arsehole to the knuckle.

“Whoooo!” Carla exclaimed, very surprised.

“I have heard it said that you enjoy a manly cock in your ass,” he told her. “Is it true, wench? Answer me honestly or you’ll be smacked again.”

The long, thick finger moved back and forth within her tight passage. “Aye, I do, now and again,” Carla admitted.

“Good!” he told her. He reached into his breeches pocket and withdrew a small ivory dildo the size and shape of his thumb with a round handle. Wetting it with his own spittle, he slowly withdrew his finger and carefully replaced it with the little dildo. “You’ll keep that there until I’m ready to give you a taste of cock, wench.”

“Oh, yes, your grace,” Carla murmured as he tipped her from his lap and onto her feet. She swayed dizzily, a hand reaching out to steady herself.

He stood up, towering over her as he did. “Undress me, wench, and do it properly, or next time, I’ll take my riding crop to your bottom,” Hawke threatened.

Carla had been so used to dominating the men in her fantasy world that she had never considered the fun a girl could have being dominated. This man was tough and he was strong. Her fingers unlaced his shirt, and she drew it from him. His chest was broad, smooth, and golden with the sun of the Indies. Unable to help herself, she began to lick his skin, tasting a mixture of sun and salt on him, but when she nipped at his nipples, his hand grasped her short curls, pulling her away.

“I did not give you permission to do that,” he said and slapped her lightly. He sat down again on the settee. “Get my boots off, you savage little bitch!” he snarled.

“I thought you liked me lusty,” Carla replied, but she knelt quickly and took his boots from him, setting them aside. Then she rolled down his knit stockings and put them with the boots.

He stood, but kept her on her knees. “The breeches and drawers,” he commanded.

Oh, this is going to be fun
, Carla thought.
How big is his dick?
Given his height and bone structure, it had to be a goodly size. Her fingers undid his belt and set it aside on the settee. His breeches had buttons, quite rare for the time period, but then he was obviously a rich man. She unbuttoned them and pulled them down. Beneath he was wearing a pair of linen drawers, unusual for a pirate. Most wore just breeches. As she drew them down, she turned to face his penis.

Her mouth fell open briefly. Hawke’s cock hung at least ten inches in length against a mat of tight golden curls. Behind it she could see the man’s heavy, pendulous balls. What would he be like aroused and dangerous? Carla licked her lips, which suddenly felt dry, and a small moan escaped her throat. Leaning forward, she gave him a quick lick from stem to tip.

“Not yet, wench,” he said, his tone hard. “You haven’t yet earned the privilege. Now, get over to the bed and spread yourself for me.”

“You’re not ready to fuck,” Carla said, standing and looking up at him. “It’s an impressive length, but you’re soft as pudding.”

“It isn’t time to fuck,” he told her. “Are you always in such a hurry, wench? Now, do as you have been bid, else I take your attitude for more misbehavior.”

“Aye, your grace,” Carla said, and then she lay down upon her bed again.

“Arms spread wide,” he instructed her, and when she had obeyed, he clamped a thick silk cord about each of her wrists, the other end of which was attached to the two carved bedposts at her head.

Carla was startled. She had no such cords. From where had they come? She was not in the habit of entertaining lovers in her home, let alone her private bedchamber. She was even more surprised when Hawke took each of her legs, raising them up high to attach them with the silken cords to the bedposts just above her wrists. “What are you doing?” she demanded of him.

“I want you properly displayed and immobilized for my pleasure,” he told her in a matter-of-fact tone.

Carla was astounded. She was trussed up in such a manner as to fully display her mons, her cunt, and her arse. He sat cross-legged on the bed, solemnly observing her formerly hidden treasures.

“Your mons is nicely plump,” he noted, “and your cunt lips well shaped.” He reached forward, his fingers fastened about the dildo ring. He moved it back and forth, briefly twisting it in so she might wring a small bit of pleasure from it. When she moaned, he stopped. Then he ran a single finger down the groove where her nether lips met. It was already sticky with moisture. Sliding a finger between the fleshy folds, he found her clitoris and played with it, the ball of his thumb encircling it over and over again. When she gave evidence of her rising excitement, he pushed a finger into her vagina.

“Not enough!” Carla almost sobbed.

A second finger joined the first, and he smiled as she rode his hand in a desperate attempt to gain her pleasure. Laughing at her, he withdrew the fingers. “I can see that you will need something more for the interim, wench. You will not last the next few hours unless you are satisfied, and you are too delectable a treat to gobble quickly.” He looked about the bedchamber; seeing a bowl of fresh fruit, he arose and went over to it. He stood before the bowl for a moment or two before choosing. When he sat before her once again, she saw that he had a long, thick green banana in his hand. “I think this will do,” he said to her.

Carla’s eyes widened. He wouldn’t! He couldn’t! But he did. Slowly he pushed the lengthy fruit into her heated sheath. She gasped as he began to fuck her with the long, thick banana. But to her shock she couldn’t help herself. She met the banana’s inward push with an upward thrust of her hips. Her breath was coming in fierce little spurts as her carnal desires overcame her. “More! More!” she begged him, and laughing once again, he thrust the banana faster and faster until she cried out and her creamy juices flowed down the leathery skin of the fruit.