After the Boys of Summer Have Gone

You stared at the pirate for a long moment, and he returned it with the wide round eyes like that of a puppy standing over your previously nice unchewed shoe. “You can’t tell me you don’t know how to take a bath?” you exclaimed incredulously. Jack didn’t respond right away, regarding you coolly, but the twitch in his cheek gave him away, and you threw your sponge at him with a smile. “Liar!”

Catching it deftly, he gave you that amusing half grin and almost crooned, ”How I be a liar when I never said anything in particular about the subject to begin with? You assumed.”

“You let me assume.”

“It’s more fun that way sometimes, and it’s not my fault that people do assume is it? No milady I am more then familiar with baths. In Asia, they have entire houses that are just one big inlaid bath, and everyone bathes together. Now THAT,” he said with enunciation and pointed finger,” is a bath. And ye get your back washed for you.” He held the sponge out suggestively.

“You want me to wash your back for you?” You replied mockingly, with an undertone of seriousness. “Do you think that proper, Captain Sparrow? This is certainly not one of those Asian bathhouses.”

“Tsk. Mores the pity. As far as being proper, you haven’t had much of a problem standing in the same room, not five feet away from a very naked man that you insisted get naked, after he was put in very close confines with a very naked woman, in your tub.” Jack leaned forward, one elbow resting on his knee, leaning his head on his hand, still looking up at you.

You knew this was a big game to him, and you were willfully falling into it. “Mr. Sparrow, I am not a buxom wistful maid who knows nothing of the world. There is nothing on you that I haven’t seen before in my lifetime.”

“Oh? I daresay ye can never be too sure of things like that. You never know just what you might be missing, now can you?” Jack grinned wider to the point where you had no problem seeing his gold-capped teeth. “And I say, in my professional opinion, ye are amply buxom enough.”

A flush of color rose to your cheeks. There were too many buts and uncertainties that were squeezing into your life and you felt like you were losing your control. Even if you weren’t the most beautiful woman on the island, men complimented you all the time, and it never flustered you. You were used to it, able to ignore it, but when Jack said it, you felt self-conscious. When other men expounded on any of your virtues you felt almost perturbed, but when Jack said it, you felt giddy and girlish. That ground at your guts.

Jack had taken your dwindling bar of soap while you were busy blushing at his comment and lackadaisically ran it up and down his arms. His arms were leanly muscled and obviously strong, but not to bulging like some men you had seen that you wondered how they could move them. While the lower half of his arms was coated in dark layer of hair, his upper arms and chest were near bare with just a smattering here and there of a few stray strands. He had a light layer of hair over his back, and down his stomach that disappeared into the water…

You quickly pulled your eyes away from following that compelling line that led down, hoping he had not noticed your forwardness. If he did, he made no indication of it, and just kept washing. You wondered what it was that men had against a sponge or a cloth to wash with when the bar went straight to his underarms to lather. The odd variety of hair you would have to be pulling from your soap, or maybe you would just let him keep that one if there were any left. After all his nagging about flowers he seemed to sure be enjoying it.

You must have had an odd look on your face, because he stopped his wash in mid scrub. “I hope that this is either highly educational or entertaining for you, milady.”

“Or both,” you said matter of factly.

“Aye, or both,” he repeated with an amused smirk.

Your attention was drawn back to his scars, mentally tracing each one in your head with an imaginary finger. Your mind raced with what possible adventures had caused those trails of either light or reddened puckered skin.

“Cutlass. Bar fight, knife. Bar fight, broken bottle. Jealous husband. Bloody damned mutineer Barbosa. One of the King’s finest with a lucky shot that thankfully wasn’t luc luckier. And I ‘ave one on my knee from when I was just a wee lad and ran into tree, but that’s not very interesting I don’t think, but I can still show ye if ye like.”

“I’m sorry?”

The pirate shrugged. “I was giving you the list of my wounds since you were showing as much interest in the scars on my body as a sailor shows to the grog on leave, and that is quite a bit.”

“Oh,” you softly said.

Jack started again, a bit slower this time, and pointed to each scar as he gave its brief history. “This one,” he said, pointing to the one that marked his face,” was from a cutlass blade of a drunken sailor from when I was but a boy on my first ship. This one,” he went next to a thin line between his shoulder and his neck,” is from an altercation on Tortuga in some alehouse, as is this one,” and he reached behind to lay a finger on a more ragged one on his upper back, twisting a bit so you could see. “Just a bit of a misunderstanding about money or something.” He went next to one, on his other shoulder. “I got this one from gentleman a bit upset that someone else was pleasing his wife, pretty lass with huge…” Jack faltered in his words, his hands a bit outstretched by his chest, and he dropped them quickly, “but at the time I did not know she was his wife. She withheld that information from me at the time I wooed her. The strumpet!” He held up his arm and bent away a bit so you could see an odd shaped scar on his side. “A marine got lucky with his musket so the bullet grazed me, but since it was molten lead, it stung just a bit as it burned my flesh out. Oh, I almost forgot this one,” he held up his left hand, and across the palm was a thin white line. “This one is from the dreaded Isla del Muerta, after a rather harrowing battle as a living skeleton with Barbosa, who gave me the scar on my other side, when the bastard committed mutiny, stole my ship and marooned me.”

“Living skeleton?” Your heart raced at the thought of that story, but coming from a pirate, you wondered how much of it could be believed, and how much was wild elaboration.

“Perhaps I can be coaxed to expound on that one over a meal. It would take a while to make it though that tale, and by the time I be done with it, there will have been too many things shriveling aside from my fingers that a man just doesn’t like to have shriveled.”

You laughed. “I will hold you to that. I will have a bucket of water brought up for you to rinse after you finish the rest of your bits, and try and find something you can dry off with and wear while your clothing is being dried. When you are done, if you could attach that waxed canvas tube to the plug on the bottom and allow the water to drain down the side of the house through the casement.”

“You never have not yet told me your name, miss, speaking before of formalities.”

You told him your name and curtsied in your habitual formality, “Captain Sparrow,” and closing the door behind you, left Jack with a bemused expression.

In the other room, you let your self nearly collapse against the wall. What had come over you in there? The entire time your heart had seemed to skip beats as he spoke, and your body flushed hot inside. You actually stayed in a room and watched him bathe, talking to him in conversation as if he were just sitting on your veranda drinking tea. He was a bloody nefarious pirate. A villain. A scoundrel. And you were risking your interests and well being just protecting him from the marines who probably had the right idea in the first place.

You scowled and contemplated what now to do with him now that you had him.

Jack would have to make do with your damp housecoat or your bed sheet. You sighed, and threw on a simple drawstring chemise and your favorite necklace that you rarely went without; a variety of precious and semi precious stones engraved with small dragons. You grabbed another short chemise he could wear if he chose. It was somewhat like his regular white shirt, you thought, but just a tad longer.

You had Ester have the local stable boy bring up a large wooden bucket of water and leave it right inside your door, which you then transferred to inside the water closet, managing to only spill part of it.

“Well, its about time,” came his muffled drawl as you slipped it in, and tossed the clothing and sheet in as well.

A few minutes later your midday meal arrived on covered trays, just as Jack made his grand entrance in the boudoir of your apartment. The sheet was wrapped around his waist, clutched at the front side in one hand, and the rest tossed over his arm and shoulder, like a Roman senator of old. The thin cloth stuck to his damp flesh, clinging to his hips and legs and outlining practically everything. Your breath caught in your throat. EVERYTHING.

The elderly housemaid stifled a gasp but not the sideways questioning glare she gave to you quickly as she hurried out. Jack snickered softly at that, and sauntered closer. You had to call it saunter, for it was a pace you could barely describe, like a cross between a glide and stroll. It was like all his limbs were one fluid motion, like an animated rag doll. He held up the dressing gown. “I’m not wearing this,” he said. “I did the soap thing to make you ‘appy and out of gratitude for all you’ve done fer me, but that’s as far as I go on that.”

“Well I did the best I could under the circumstances. I don’t keep an assortment of masculine garb lying around for that random day when a pirate falls through my window.”

“Not even some leftover clothes from…careless visitors?”

You narrowed your eyes at that comment. “Mr. Sparrow, I am not some whore who keeps a parade of men in my chambers. There are no men in my life and haven’t been in a long time.”

Jack studied your anger with that deep intense stare of his that seemed to go through a person. “Pity. Such a waste,” he started, and changed his tune quite quickly as he saw the storm cloud on your horizon darken,” but then again…quite an upstanding an honorable thing.” He almost flinched. “You’re not going to slap me now, are you?”

“As tempting as that option is, no I am not, Mr. Sparrow. I suppose I should expect that from someone like yourself, so I don’t know why it angered me so. Why did you think I was going to slap you?”

Jack paused in that dramatic way of his, hand askew in the air. “I tend to have that problem around women it seems.”

“I think I can see why.”

Jack regarded you oddly, as if he was sorting a myriad of jumbled thoughts before he spoke again. “That’s interesting. A beautiful, strong woman as you, I would not have thought, though, as one who would leave her bed cold. My mistake. But that it was coming from me, it should not have angered you but did, and the idea that I thought you were attractive enough that men would wish to bed you angered you, even though I said nothing about you being a whore. In fact, there is absolutely nothing about you that would ever even give me the faintest conception that you were anything akin to a trollop. Very interesting.”

“Mr. Sparrow, I haven’t a clue what you are insinuating.”

“For whatever reason, my opinion matters to you.”

You chocked back a chortle. “Mr. Sparrow…”

”Jack.”

“Fine. Jack, why would the opinion of a man I barely know, and a wanted felon besides that, matter to me?”

“Exactly my thought. Why would a woman do anything you did for me today? Because for whatever twisted reason that I don’t think YOU even know yet, you like me.”

“Pshaw. You presume too much, sir.”

Stoically, he replied, ”Do I? You presume that because I am a pirate, I do not tell the truth. Well, to tell the truth, MOST people do not think I am telling the truth. It is this very assumption that inspires me to the truth or the parts I see fit to, more often then not, which is quite an advantage at times because even if you do tell the truth, nobody thinks you are. In that way, you can get away with telling the truth almost all the time, and no one every really knows if you are actually telling the truth or not, even though I think it makes nary a difference with the vast majority of people I meet. Comes in handy at times though, because nobody can be sure just exacthat hat you plan to do. While I did presume too much that you had gentlemen friends, but with good reason to think so, in the opinion of a worldly man such as myself, I dared not presume because you were a woman who bedded that you were more then what I see that you are; an incredible and interesting person that knew what you wanted and did what she needed to get it.”

Your head spun at his twisted logic, but it made sense in a way. You did allow yourself to fall under that spell of what you thought about pirates, and Jack was breaking many of those preconceived notions. He was also correct before about liking him. No man had made you weak in the knees as he had since you were barely done being a girl. You shamefully looked away. “I’m sorry.”

Jack floated over to one of the chairs at the small table where your dinner awaited, and sat down. “If I were to do as you did, I would assume that your doubt relates to the great discovery I made many years ago that the majority of women do not like the truth. As much as they prattle on about how much they value and desire honesty in their men folk, I have come to the conclusion that it is merely a bunch of codswallop.” Jack reached over and started removing lids to the small dishes of food; some stew, cold roast chicken, vegetables, bread and fruit. “But I do not see you like that, and that is the truth.”

You watched him pick up a knife and start slicing off chunks of the capon, and skewering various boiled roots dropping them on a plate. You took your place carefully across from him. “Why do you think that most women care naught about the truth?”

“Because,” Jack said carefully around a mouthful of carrot, ”they don’t want to be told the truth. They love the doting and tender phrases and wooing of the simple fools, who go on and on about their limpid pools and breathless beauty, when what the men are really meaning is how much they want to roll them in the hay like lusty goats. What is a limpid pool anyway?” The pirate swallowed his bite, picked up a cloth napkin from the table, and continued. “Men are simple creatures that way. They swoon on for the sake of the women, and it seems to work for a while until they are past that titillation and the ladies want the truth. A trap set out to snare the unwitting young man. They will ask you questions and either not like or believe your response.”

Jack’s voice rose up into this amusing falsetto, and he waved the napkin around as if it were a fan or a handkerchief. “Luv, is me arse too big in this dress? Wouldn’t you love to go and meet me mum and dad? Do you wish I had bigger bosoms? Were you looking at that girl there? Is she more beautiful then I am?” Dropping the cloth, he poked another bite onto the knife, and used it to enunciate his words. “There is no right way to answer questions like that. Especially those last two. You admit you were look and and you are in trouble. You deny you are looking and she will never believe it. Tell her the other girl is beautiful and she will be crying her eyes out and you are in the street. Tell her the other girl is a cur, and you are still on the outs because you had to be looking then.”

You were trying not to laugh out loud, as you recognized many of those as true examples you had heard throughout your years. Jack grinned right back at you in mixed amusement between your mirth and the triumph of making you happy.

You poured two thin-stemmed glasses full of red wine from a carafe, and set one in front of the pirate. He picked it up delicately by the long glass stem and twirled it ever so softly between he thumb and forefinger. “Awful fancy for the likes of me don’t ye think, miss?” Jack asked in that gruffness where you couldn’t decide if he was serious or joking. “You live rather well for one who be singing and playin’ in a place like the Keg.”

“That is my interest, my hobby, not my main source of income. Well it is at the moment, but that is from choice, rather then necessity. And while I like my luxuries, I can, and have,” you stopped to take a long draught of your wine, watching Jack observe you and your reactions,” lived without them. I only rent this house for the time I will be here, and then I will move on when my business is done.”

“And what business would that be, milady?”

“Let’s just say I broker things, trade things, arrange things. Many things. I get ideas and I use them. I inherited my father’s merchanting runs when he died, and used them until I sold them. I had been planning to get involved in the Molasses trade, but I have other ideas since I have been down here. I am just biding my time until I get THAT feeling of whether I am wrong or right. Then I will act.

Jack had cleaned his plate and reached over to get some more when he noticed you had not taken anything yet, and paused. “Ye’d better take some because I’m plain out famished myself.” When you didn’t respond right away, he started hacking and tossing things onto your plate until he figured he had given you enough, then resumed filling his again. He ripped a small loaf of bread in half and tore out part of the middles, shoveling some of the stew in each piece, and unceremoniously plopping yours down on top of the rest of your disarrayed victuals.

The pirate suddenly suspended his eager food doling and picked up a large green apple. He stared at it intently, turning it back and forth on the tips of his fingers, lost in thought.

“Jack? Is there something wrong with the apple?” You inquired softly, but it was enough to jar him from his reflections.

“Aye? No, I was just thinking about the last time I had me an apple like this. Thought it was going to be the sweetest thing.”

“Worm?”

Jack laughed. “Aye, but it warnt in the apple lass. No… I had taken one bite, in what I thought was a brilliantly conceived victory, but I had counted my chickens before they hatched as they say….and I ended up in a stinkin’ leakin’ cell avoiding flying cutlery as people blew holes in my ship.” He ended by taking a large bite of the apple, and mumbling between chews, ”Just as I said then, funny world mate.”

“Tell me about it. Please,” you try and the the eagerness in your begging. “You owe me a story over dinner. You said.”

“Oh, yes, I believe I do,” he said, “but I must ask if you be afraid of ghost stories milady?”

“No, of course not, Jack. I love ghost stories.”

“Ah, good,” Jack said, taking another bite of apple. “But if I am to tell ye this story, I must start at the beginning, and that be ten, no, twelve years ago now, right after I the the Pearl as my own. I had raided this Spanish merchant vessel when this old dying sailor onboard offered in exchange for the rest of the crew’s life, which I had no plans on ‘arming either way, this funny wooden compass that didn’t point north, and some tale about the lost Isla de Muerta and the golden treasure of Cortez….”

His darks eyes sparkled gleefully as you pulled yourself to the edge of your chair to lean in closer. For a good part of the afternoon, between food and drink, Jack Sparrow regaled you the most intricate tale; treasure and mutiny, years of waiting and searching until this fateful day in Port Royal when this maid Elizabeth just happened to fall in the ocean as he was busy commandeering a navy vessel, a kidnapping, a reluctant friend and compatriot named Will and the search for Jack’s cursed ship the Black Pearl. By the end of it all, the food was long gone and you had opened several more bottles of wine. A good portion had been drunk by the raven-haired pirate, who was now emphatically leaping about the room waving a large spoon in imitation of a great escape that he and the Will character had gone through in an attempt to escape the noose.

Throughout the couple of hours it had taken to relate the saga, you had sat starry eyed and spell bound in rapt attention, and even more so as the large amount of wine you drunk worked its relaxing magic on you. He had your complete and utter attention, hanging on every word he drawled out. You could picture in your mind the ships on the sea, the salt spray, the encompassing magical fog of the cursed ship and the great battles with cannons and pistols and cutlasses. As Jack wound down to what you knew to be the end, part of you had wished that you could have been Elizabeth on the beach that night.

Jack had slipped into the short chemise some time before when he had grown tired of holding the sheet. In your more then slightly inebriated state, your inhibitions were almost shattered. You could feel the flush in your body, and the deepness of your breath as you drank in the sight of his long tanned legs as he danced around the room in some sort of spoon to sword footwork with the light material dangerously twirling upwards at times over his thighs. The drawstring to the shift had been left mostly undone, so a great expanse of his chest, slightly sheened with a light layer of sweat from his demonstrations, peeked out darkly against the whiteness of the material. You envisioned it uncovered, back in the tub. Your memories drifted back to the sheet and the way it clung to his hips, and was barely a barrier between you and more intimate, manly regions. Your mind could not contemplate the why here and now and why him questions you would ask yourself on later days. Right now all you could feel was a long buried insatiable longing that gnawed at you deep in your guts.

With a deep breath Jack spun around to face you. “And that milady, is the Curse of the Black Pearl, and how it ‘appened, except I was a lot more properly clothed for that sort of thing and not dangling around as much...”

You do not know if it was the fire in your eyes, or the rush of blood that seemed to burn just under your skin, but the pirate was momentarily taken aback to silence. Tossing the spoon/sword to the table he moved several steps closer, contemplating the unexpected reaction that had seemed to overcome you. “You know missy,” he smirked in a mild teasing tone, ”You keep looking at me like that and things won’t be dangling for much longer,” as if the implication would shock you from your stupor.

When you softly expelled a large breath of air, only then did he realize that it had the opposite reaction. Jack’s smile gave way to a somber expression as he pushed bseveseveral tangled locks of his black hair and the strings of beads that had fallen into his face. Your eyes locked with his, and while you weren’t quite sure what you saw in them, you saw no malice or degradation in them. What he saw in yours you could only assume, but what he must have seen must have been quite clear. Slowly he took those extra couple steps until he stood directly in front of you, not once breaking the gaze, the only sound from his clinking hair decorations. His hand rose, and hesitantly caressed the side of your face with the back of his fingers, from your temple to down under your chin. Turning his fingers, he exerted ever so slight pressure and guided you to stand up before him, then slid his hand until his palm cupped your cheek. His other hand slowly followed until your face was nestled between them and you were just scant fingertips from his.

The heat from his flesh radiated like a furnace in the sparse gap between your two bodies, and you could feel his breath on your lips, but Jack did not move other then the barest stroke of his callused thumb over your cheekbone. You knew you trembled under that excruciatingly tender touch, and didn’t know how you remained standing as your body felt as though the very bones had been removed and the rest of you threatened to pool on the floor in a quivering heap.

Jack ever so tentatively pulled you closer so that his lips brushed yours, then again. This time you closed your eyes and returned it, lips parting against his. Jack increased his pressure, deepening the kiss until you felt yourself melt against his body. His tongue traced the inner part of your lips and edges of your teeth, exploring and tasting. The pirate Captain tasted sweetly of the wine as he exhaled into your mouth.

One of handhands trailed around to rest on the small of your back, firmly keeping the intimate contact between you, as he turned your head and blazed hot kisses down your neck, working his way from the front back to near your nape. You heard yourself gasp and groan as in places his teeth grazed at the tender flesh. His moustache and small beard almost tickled, adding to the erotic sensations that he was drawing up out of you.

Even with the bath, you could still garner the slightest scent of the sea upon him mixed in with that musky scent of man, as it was part of his very essence. He was one of those hot summer nights on a darkened beach, the tide rolling in; bringing all that was new and exciting in its wake. Your arms wrapped instinctively around under his arms onto his firm wide back. It was solid and strong, partially from all his days as a sailor, as you imagined him pulling and hoisting the many ropes aboard the ship. You felt his shoulders quiver as your fingertips pressed into the firm flesh, drawing him closer even though no room remained. Your body pressed tightly against his, and somewhere in your consciousness you noted that nothing was surely dangling anymore.

The second hand that was not on your back skimmed to the long drawstring at the front of your chemise, deliberately releasing the tie you had made. Jack pulled away, his dark eyes intensely clouded with arousal. Jack stared at you so hard he could have bored holes through to the back of your skull, but you refused to release his gaze. You must haven aen a sight, lips swollen and face flushed with your own incredible desire.

In a desperate guttural tone he forced out, “If you want me to stop, milady, you need tell me now, fer I cant be sure I will be able to if we keep going. Right now it will practically kill me to do so, but I will if that be your wish.”

You couldn’t force yourself to speak, any cognizant thoughts completely drowned out in the sheer animal attraction that you were feeling for this man. Grabbthe the already loose edges of his makeshift shirt, you pulled it hard enough to retract the rest of his string, and the neckhole widened to the point that with your guidance it completely slid down over his shoulders and off his body to pool around his feet, making your response quite obvious.

“Dear God woman!” Jack groaned and crushed you against him, passionately kissing the very air from your lungs.

Now your fingers could feel and play in the light layers of hair as you touched his bare skin and you played with all the way down to where you gently massaged the swell of his buttocks. He tugged and nipped on your lower lip, his tongue none so cautious anymore as he explored every inch of your mouth that he could reach. A burning swept through your very core, engulfing you in the most incredible longing you had every felt in your life.

Jack practically tore at your gown with his right hand, trying to open it as you had his, while his left hand lifted it up and slid underneath up your leg to clutch at your hip. His manhood was pressed against your stomach and he ground it against you through the fabric.

It was your turn to pull away, the two of you both panting heavily. You reached up to trace the edges of his beard with your fingers, feeling the different texture of the scar that ran though it on the one side from the rest of his weathered, tanned skin. He grasped your fingertips in his lips when you got close enough to them, pulling them in with gentle suction and rolling them inside ever so slightly. With a reluctant and pleasured groan, you pulled them out and made wet trails down the side of his neck, which you followed with your lips. You nervously tasted him in your kisses, nibbling his flesh as he had to you. Hiin win was slightly salty from his show earlier, and silky smooth once past the bristly remnants of facial hair.

Moaning softly, he stood perfectly still as you kissed further down into the small shallows in the front of his shoulders. Your fingers moved of their own accord over his body, tracing the lines of the rose tattoo on his left breast, lingering on the solid nibs of his nipples. Jack hissed in sharply when you grasped them between your pads and manipulated them lightly. His own fingers pulled out the comb that held your long hair, tossing it across the room, and entwining them in the loose strands.

Your lips closed around one of his nipples and you swathed it with the tip of your tongue, flicking it, and pressing the tender bit in your teeth. Jack increased the pressure on the back of your head, every expelled breath a raspy moan. You had yet not looked down that line of belly hair you had so wished to follow earlier, but you could feel it. You pursued it under your palm, allowing your hand to run through the downward laying strands, tracking its growing mass until the texture changed and you know you had reached the start of his most intimate area.

You could feel his hard expanse against your arm, but you dared not touch it directly yet. Instead you teased through the coarser strands to underneath, ending up cupping his balls. “Christ!” Jack choked out as you, manipulated his sacs in your one hand. Smiling against his skin, you kissed and suckled sensuously down, taking the same path as your hand had.

You could feel shakshaking with the strain he was under as he fought the urge to push on your scalp and rush things with his eagerness as to what was coming. The strong musk that was Jack grew incredibly more alluring as your reached the side of his groin with your face, your nose nuzzling into the coal black hair.

Bashfully you now allowed yourself pull away and look over at the manhood you felt so prominently against you earlier. It stood out abruptly from the surrounding dark mass of curls, a bit more then a hands length and a good grasp around guessing from what you could see. The loose skin that would have covered the tip when down was pulled back tightly and the darker head glistened with leaked moisture. He was pulsing and bobbing slightly in his obvious arousal. You tenderly stroked a fingertip up its length to the small slit in the tip, then down around to the bottom.

Jack was watching you intently, all his muscles taut and trembling as he strove to remain still and let you explore. Closing your hand around the base, you placed your lips against the tip where his fluids seeped, and bit by bit parted them around it, till the whole head was completely surrounded.

You maneuvered your tongue up to flavor what was being released in his arousal, and you knew you must have hit something good as he practically whimpered. While you could not take his whole expanse in, you allowed as much as you could in, squeezing carefully on the exposed shaft. You drew it in and out excruciatingly slow and leisurely, enjoying its velvety hardness and the way it drew interesting sounds from the pirate’s throat.

You felt Jack’s whole body shudder. “God dammit to hell,” Jack breathed loudly, “Not this way,” and he pulled yheadhead away and practically dragged you up by the arm and hair, to envelope you in another passionate kiss, bruising your lips in its ferocity. But you cared not.

A rip resounded through the room as Jack in his desperation gave up the idea of floundering with your ties and tore your chemise straight down the front, shoving it over your shoulders and off, all without releasing your lips from his. He scooped you up in his arms, cradling your body and in a few strides was next to your bed. Lowering you down onto the downy blankets, he balanced himself on both one arm and leg, and went after your neck and ear and shoulder again with his nuzzles and nips. His free hand grasped your breast, kneading it in his palm, catching your hard nipple in the groove between his thumb and forefinger. He took your skin between his teeth and lips until your body rose up and you gasped out his name. He lapped at the most tender spot at the base of your throat, in the hollow of your neck, and left a long wet trail down between your breasts. He titled his head so he could see your face tremble as he engulfed your aureole and teased the contracted nib.

Jack moved between your legs, and your first thought was that the time had come when the man relieved himself of his arousal, but instead of moving up as all the men you had loved previously had, he slowly started to move down. You froze up and stiffened and Jack stopped mid kiss on your belly. He had a concerned expression and carefully asked, “Am I hurting, ye, lass?”

You shook your head edgily, licking your lips, trying to find your voice and your words to question your confusion In a quavering voice you were only able to get out,” No, Jack. I just…What are you doing?”

Jacks eyebrow rose and he knelt up. He ran his hands through his locks and braids and jewelry, pushing them back over his shoulders, slightly bewildered. “I thought you said you ‘ad been with a man before?”

“I..I have. Several times,” you blurt out. “Its just that they never... I mean by now they had... you know?”

As if dawn had broken and the light revealed all, Jack got this knowing grin and wryly queried,” Ye have never had a man pleasure you all the way have you?”

“All the way?” You shook your head, suddenly feeling the ignorant fool. So much for your confidence earlier when you were before him.

“As you pleasured me earlier.”

Your mouth rounded in an ‘oh’, as Jack tenderly ran his fingers through your nether curls on your mound. “You mean…? No one would ever even consider…I thought…I was always told it was considered unclean and uncouth and…”

“Not the gentlemanly thing to do?” Jack finished for you amusedly. You nodded and blushed fiercely. Reassuringly, Jack smiled at you, and kissed your one bent knee, near his head. “First off, I am but a pirate, so I suppose the fallacies of a gentleman and their silly rules do not concern me. Secondly, no real gentleman would leave a lady he craved to actually please unsatisfied. You bathe and care about yourself, so there is nothing I feel is unclean a an an act that can bring pleasure to the lady as much as it brings pleasure to the man.” He pursed his lips and seriously asked, “Do you trust me?”

In a breath barely audible to even you, you whisper, ”Yes Jack,” and yet your body still quivered in your apprehension.

He leaned up, over you, hands on either side of your head and kissed you gently, passionately. “Then just relax and trust me, luv,” Jack murmured, his eyes warm and affectionate.

He started again, the two small braids of his beard trailing sensuously over your breasts. Jack offered no contact other then the beaded strands. He kept his eyes locked with yours as he delicately drug them over your skin. You shivered, surprised that just that bit, resurged the desire and need that cent in in your core, burning and growing. He avoided your intimates, traveling back and froth over your sides, stomach and breasts before meandering over your hip and down your right leg. You didn’t even notice as it got lower and lower until you could feel his breath again through his lips, hot and cool at the same time on your practically flaming skin. His lips met the inside of your lower thigh, near your knee, and you heard yourself gasp softly in your pent up relief for contact.

Even in your trepidation, you focused on the sparkle and enthusiasm in his eyes as he tantalizingly kissed up your inner thigh towards your apex. Each nibble and kiss and inch upwards increased in pleasurable intensity. You shivered uncontrollably, as your body screamed its approval of the pirate’s actions, feeling the growing dampness between your legs.

Jack blew over your twisty curls, the breeze feeling cool on your burning flesh. He traced your lips with his fingertip, brushing your nub, swollen and distended and more sensitive then you had ever known it. You jerked and gasped when he made the brief contact, and the corner of his mouth twitched up. Jack guided your knees outward and down, wrapping his arms under and around your hips, drawing you closer. With his thumbs he carefully parted you and gazed upon your most private area.

You blushed deeply again, self-conscious and embarrassed. “Ye shouldn’t be ashamed, luv. ‘Tis the heart of woman’s beauty, what we men don’t have and yet crave more then all else with their girls if the men dare admit it. It’s the woman’s flower, her garden, her rose,” Jack whispered just loud enough for you to hear. “Men who don’t crave their nectar are the fools, and those who follow them are the ones who lose.” You were strangely comforted by the adulation on his face as he looked up again at you, partially blocked by your own body.

Jack’s hands tightened on your hips as if he knew what to expect, and lowered his mouth to kiss your nether lips, then run his tongue up between them. You jerked, not in pain, but in bliss, as it shot waves of scorching pleasure down every limb and over every inch inside and out. You groaned and tried to move, fighting the urge to flee and the urge to surge up wanting more. He unhurriedly used the tip to trace each side, into the center, tasting and prodding, and then over your nub. There he increased his actions alternating between entering you and suckling the small bit of flesh, teasing and torturing the hyper sensitive organ with everything he had, laving and nibbling it, pulling on it gently. The short whiskers only added to the frustration hey hey brushed and scraped gently against everywhere else as he pleased you.

During this, the reason he held you down became apparent as you writhed uncontrollably. While the rest of your body twisted and thrashed, as much as you wanted to pull away, and push closer, he held on firmly adding his body weight and you could barely move down there. You wanted to grab his head, his hair, try and exert some control, but you grasped up and grabbed the wood post of your bed frame, pulling and twisting against it. Your groans and moansalatalating into louder and louder cries and screams, until you could barely mew, or gasp for air.

Jack had been watching your every struggle and shudder and contortion, his eyes glowing with well deserved pride and confidence yet hazing over with his own lust and desire till they were clouded. Finally he released you, and you practically collapsed, your body still throbbing and wanting, as wound as the coils in a fresh turned clock. Jack crawled up between your legs and rested on his forearms over you. With one hand he brushed the tendrils of hair from your sweaty face. His beard and lips were shining from your juices.

You felt his length rested against your mound, and he softly rubbed it through the soaking curls by ever so slightly manipulating his hips. Jack shut his eyes and groaned, pushing your legs wider, lifting up slightly and reaching down to help guide his member to your entrance. You tilted your hips up slightly, as his head pushed cautiously through into your body, and little by little, inch by inch, he sheathed it in its entirety.

Jack gave a low long throaty moan, and threw his head back, his long hair and beads flying wildly. He pulled out again almost completely, again as slowly as he could, and back in again. He did this over and over, picking up speed just a bit each time he entered, and each time he entered he pushed a little harder.

It was like the most excruciating pleasurable torture you had ever felt. Your arms and legs wrapped around him, and you pushed your hips up to meet his thrusts. The room filled with the mixed moans and gasps from you and he, as the desire rose to unfathomable heights. Your nails dug into his skin, urging him for more. Your body screamed and smoldered, wanting to burst and burn. You felt a power, a pulsating energy building, much like the tingling you felt on the night of thunderstorms when purplish glow of Saint Elmo’s fire danced on the ships masts in the bay.

Jack in his efforts, still studied you, and must have known your plight, for he caught you in a deep kiss, then tore down your neck to your shoulder, hard and demanding. His pace quickened even more, his hips banging non stop against yours, the sweat of two bodies pooling on you, making a suctioning, slapping sound as flesh hit flesh. As two people with one body, he strove to be deeper then any man had ever got, pulling your hips up a bit to increase his penetration.

Then you felt it, like a rolling, boiling explosion that started deep in your loins and expanded outward. You screamed, “Jack!” and stiffened, and then convulsed wildly under him, every bit of your skin igniting and tingling. Your eyes practically exploded with a light so bright from behind your eyelids. You thought your lungs stopped working, as for a brief moment you couldn’t breathe. Your muscles contracted uncontrollably and spasmodically around Jack’s shaft.

This all brought him over the edge and he redoubled his efforts, growling in a predatory triumphant way, until he screamed out in a long deep cry, his hips thrusting madly until he shuddered from his head to his feet, as a new, different heat went deep inside you. Jack practically collapsed on you, gasping for air; his face nestled in the crook of your neck and shoulder, buried in your hair.

As the intense feeling subsided, your body relaxed, and for the first time in your life you felt totally at peace. Jack started to lift off you, but you held him tight against your bohis his weight and heat comforting to you. He stopped and relaxed back down. Idly you brushed his damp hair away from his face, and tenderly stroked his soft slick skin until the cool breeze from the window began to dry it. You lay that way together for a long time, for so long that your connection with Jack parted of its own accord, being spent; he slipped from your body without moving.

His breathing so soft and regular, you figured your pirate lover had gone to sleep, until he nuzzled your ear, and said quietly, “I say if that be evil, luv, then damn me to the depths of hell forever, because I willingly throw myself into temptation and damnation.”

Jack rolled carefully off to the side, and pulled you into his arms, wrapping them tightly around you, resting your head on his chest, right on the rose.