Her Pirate Master (4 page)

“No, please.” Her face utterly wretched, she threw herself on the floor before him. “You mustn’t.” She rested her hands on his knees. “Try me out then, just give me a chance, and if you’re not pleased by the time we reach Delos, you may do as you wish.” She slid her hands further up his legs, and Seleucus let out a small hiss. His staff stirred and stretched, and he gripped the chair arms to keep himself from falling on her. He had heard many times of the temple priestesses and their skills, but he wasn’t convinced she was one. Still, it would help to explain, at least partly, why she carried the box with its important contents. And then he stopped arguing with himself because she’d pushed aside the folds of his tunic and her hands were on his cock and he could no longer think straight.

*****

Imi closed her hands around his shaft, marveling at its slender elegance. She was no temple priestess, but neither was she an innocent virgin who’d never seen a man’s spear or enjoyed the pleasure it could bring. Even so, she was nervous as she gripped him at the base of his cock. He groaned. Thinking he liked it, she squeezed harder.

“No, my little priestess.” He reached down gently and pried her fingers apart. “Are you minded to make it wither by cutting my circulation?” He smiled to take the sting out of his words, but Imi was mortified.

“I’m sorry, I’m . . . I’ll do better.” Oh, goddess, did he suspect she knew little of what she was about?

Imi tried again. Grasping the spear in one hand, she began to gently rub the shiny head with its reddened, glistening eye under the palm of her other hand. When he moaned, Imi’s eyes flew to his face, but no, it was an admission of enjoyment. His gaze was glued to what she was doing. Imi continued to circle the head of his shaft, her palm brushing over it in the lightest of caresses. The pirate groaned again, sliding further down in his seat, pushing himself into her hands, his cock swelling even more as moisture leaked out of the eye. Imi continued to stroke him, moving her hand first in one direction then in the other.

“Ahh, ahh,” Seleucus moaned. He would have liked to have appeared indifferent to what she was doing to him, bored even, but it wasn’t possible. Just the sight alone of her slim, graceful hands performing such a lewd act on him was almost enough to send him over the edge. Her expression was so intent, so earnest, he could have kissed her. He spread his legs and pushed himself at her. Did she know? Did she understand what he was asking? He was about to tell her, to explain that he wanted her to take him in her mouth, to feel her full, pillowy lips close around him, when she changed her stroke to slide first one hand then the next over his head and down his shaft.

Seleucus wanted to shout, to scream, with the pleasure of it. Usually with Glycera’s girls and all the other women he had bedded over the years, the object was for him to achieve his pleasure as quickly as possible. None had manhandled him in such a way before. Seleucus moaned again, feeling the first tendril of liquid flame as it leaped upward from his groin. He closed his eyes, countering any momentary regret that it was happening too quickly with the thought that she had given herself to him and he would be able to do it again and again, the way he wanted it. His nipples hardened as the tendrils of heat grew into a roaring fire and then she pressed her finger between his balls and his ass, and, just as quickly as the flames had flared, they died away.

“What?” he said, confused and panting. “Please, what?”

“You have not given me your promise,” the infuriating woman said. She rocked back on her heels and crossed her arms.

“What promise?” he snarled. Was she mad? He had half a mind to take her.

“I asked you to promise me that if I pleased you, you would not sell me, but instead take me to Ephesus. You can sell any remaining slaves or goods there just as well as you can anywhere else,” she said, her tone becoming more pleading.

The minx. So that was her plan. To drive him wild with desire and then extort her price from him when he couldn’t think straight. And yet, what did he have to lose? She was right. Ephesus was an important trading center. Anything he was unable to sell in Delos, he’d more than certainly be able to sell there. He narrowed his eyes at her.

“If I take you to Ephesus, then I will wish you to serve me until our arrival there, not just until we reach Delos.”

“Agreed.” A slight frown settled on her face. “One more thing,” she said, almost apologetically. “We can’t have . . . that is, you mustn’t . . . “

“Yes?”

“I swore an oath to the goddess that I would remain, er, ah, celibate until . . . well, until I returned to the great temple at Ephesus.”

“Oh?” was all Seleucus said, thinking furiously. Were temple priestesses who had previously given themselves to the faithful able to take those kinds of oaths? Was it like some kind of second virginity?

And why such a powerful oath for something as simple as a return from a mere journey? Unless the journey was not so simple. Unless it involved the theft of important religious articles, articles that also had political value. Was this oath part of a pact with the goddess to return Arsinoe to Egypt’s throne and end Cleopatra’s reign? Seleucus would have liked to know the answer to all his questions, but he would play the game her way, for at least a while longer. He lost nothing by it even while being able to study and get to know her.

“It shall be as you say,” he said. “If you please me surpassingly well, I shall not sell you but take you to any port you desire.”

“To Ephesus,” she said firmly.

“To the lovely city of Ephesus,” he agreed. And there, I will find out who you really are and what you are about, my delightful mystery woman. But this part he kept to himself as she wrapped her hand around his snake once more.

She cupped his balls with her other hand, massaging them gently until he could feel his excitement gathering itself again in the pit of his stomach. His dragon hardened, reared. He would have liked nothing more than to grab her by the hair and push himself into her mouth, which hovered so close, so tantalizingly close. Instead, he clenched his hands, digging his fingers into his palms, feeling the pain mix with the pleasure, giving himself up to the storm of sensation building inside him. Slowly, slowly, she drew her hand away from his balls to circle the dragon head. Seleucus moaned at the change, spreading his legs, offering himself to her, to whatever part of her wanted to make contact with him. Everything in him was concentrated on what she was doing to him, on the activity of her hands. Bending forward, she gently blew on him and his legs trembled in shock at how good it felt. Seleucus closed his eyes but opened them again. He wanted to watch her, to see what she was doing to him. When she saw him staring at her, she smiled a small secret smile and changed the style of her stroke. Still grasping him firmly, she pulled upward, one hand following the other in a smooth rhythm. Seleucus’s breathing quickened. His seed boiled in his groin and he threw his head back, giving himself up at last to the pleasure coursing through his body. His come fell on her face, her hair, her chest, bubbled over the hand still holding him as he slowly softened.

“Thank you,” he said. He’d never said that to any woman before, but the words issued from his mouth, without thought. He wanted her to know he’d enjoyed the exquisite pleasure she’d just given him. He looked tenderly down at her and was rewarded with a frown. Straightening, she backed herself up into a corner. He sighed inwardly. Was he never to get past her distrust and suspicion? He covered, thinking sourly that she was lucky he was the one who’d abducted her and not some other sea robber. Another such as Theagenes of Paxoi or Isidorus the One–Armed would not have hesitated to use her as he wanted. Either would have raped her repeatedly and then sold both her and her precious box to the highest bidder with no more compunction than he would fillet a fish. The grim thought raised another.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

She nodded.

“I will go get us something to eat. Is there anything in particular you’d like?” He’d left orders while the ship was in the harbor for it to be re–stocked by the men left behind. He was sure he could produce whatever she desired within reason. Her eyes flashed, and, for a minute, he thought she was going to ask for something outrageous like peacock meat or lark tongues. But the flash died away to be replaced once again with the sweet, demure expression she had obviously come to feel was more appropriate for her role as agreeable love slave. Seleucus pressed his lips tightly together to hold back the chortle of laughter that threatened to shake him.

“No,” she said, primly. “No, thank you. Anything would be fine. Figs, perhaps, and cheese, if you have some.”

“I’ll be back.”

He exited.

*****

Almost as soon as he’d gone, Imi rested her forehead on the dusty floor and wrapped her arms around her waist. She wanted to hate the pirate captain, to despise herself for what she’d done, what she was willing to do, but in her heart of hearts, she knew she’d be lying to herself if she tried to claim she hadn’t felt a secret thrill in seeing his snake, touching it. Oh yes, she had to admit it. When she’d closed her hands around him, he’d shivered with pleasure and it had touched a responding chord in her. Her flesh clenched and sent waves of heat upward from between her legs.

If he’d bent forward and shoved his hand up her thighs, he would have felt how slick she was, but he had made no move toward her. She had sensed his uncertainty and known that she puzzled him. The knowledge that she intrigued him had lent her the confidence she needed to play the role she’d adopted. She had concentrated on him, on his needs, his arousal, to the exclusion of anything else, but now that she was alone, she became aware of the ache between her legs. Still prostrate on the ground, she lifted the hem of her tunic under her, pushed her fingers past her undergarment and caressed herself, her fingers sliding over her sticky folds, circling her hardened pleasure center. Her breath shortened, and she could feel her nipples swelling and pushing against the silk of her tunic. She pressed her hands against herself and rocked her hips. The friction delighted her.

Unbidden, the image of the pirate captain’s cock came to mind. She imagined herself licking it from the base all the way to the head, imagined putting it in her mouth and sucking, sucking. How good he’d smelled—like amber, crushed basil, and the earth after it rained, all rolled together. She breathed deeply, pretending it was his smell she inhaled rather than that of the dusty floor.

Her hips bucked faster as liquid heat streamed out of her. She heard footsteps outside. She wanted to stop, but she couldn’t. An earthquake rumbled through her body and then it was over and the pirate captain was pushing open the door. Imi kept her head lowered as she re–arranged her clothes. Did he realize what she’d been up to? Would he laugh at her? He often appeared ready to burst into laughter. When she risked a peek, he was laying a tray down on the narrow table opposite the bed and had his back to her.

“I hope I did not keep you waiting overlong,” he said as she stood up. Imi thought she detected a note of irony. Her eyes searched his face as she joined him at the table, but he kept his gaze on the food and she could see nothing in his profile.

“I am content,” was all she said in reply. Let him make of that what he chose.

She surveyed the food before her in amazement. It was the kind of spread she had been accustomed to in Egypt. In Rome and then again in Ephesus, Arsinoe’s people ate sparingly, never wanting to tax the generosity of their hosts.

On the table was a cup of black olives, a big silver platter held slices of ham, half a round of goat cheese, stuffed tuna, a plate of figs, and, of course, bread. Imi’s belly growled. She hadn’t eaten since her flight from Rome. She rinsed her hands at the water basin and wondered fleetingly how Lucius did. She hoped he was being well looked after and would find his way back to Ephesus and to Arsinoe’s service. He was a good and loyal man.

The pirate captain handed her a small plate, and she began to fill it while he retreated to the bed.

“Aren’t you going to eat, too?” she asked, feeling his eyes on her.

“After you.”

“I’d no idea sea raiders ate quite so well.”

He laughed. “We do not always. Sometimes it goes ill with us, and then our stomachs touch our backs.”

Imi nodded. She’d known such times, too.

She piled her plate high, sat on the nearby chair, and began to eat.

“I brought more water, but I could get wine, if you prefer it.”

“Water’s fine. Thank you.”

She eyed him as he got up and began to cover his plate with food.

“So, will you tell me your name?”

“Imi of Alexandria.”

So he’d been right. Not only was she Egyptian, but she came from the city known for its dislike of Cleopatra. If he remembered rightly, Alexandrians had thrown their support behind Arsinoe and her young brother when they’d sought to take the throne. Hundreds of them were executed after Caesar quelled the rebellion and took Arsinoe captive. Her brother’s body was never recovered, and it was thought he’d died in the fighting.

“And you?”

“I am called Seleucus, and I come from Carthage.”

Imi raised her eyebrow at this.

“My family came out of Cilicia in my grandfather’s time. Apparently he was not well liked by the reigning king, having tried to replace him with the king’s younger brother.”

So, he was not the stranger to political machinations she’d thought him. As both Cilician and Carthaginian, he would bear Romans no great love. She shot him a considering look, wondering if she should confide in him. But no, she had better not. A sea raider’s loyalty was to none but himself. Just because they’d shared an intimacy she’d experienced with few men was no reason to let down her guard. She blushed furiously as she brought a mouthful of ham to her mouth, keeping her eyes carefully averted from his.

“So, tell me, why do you follow Isis?”

“What?”

“Why Isis and not another? Astarte or Ceres, for instance.”