Find the Edge of Reason

Thanks to all those who have reviewed here and my Livejournal where this story has been posted. Hopefully you have stuck through it with me! My huge thanks to my wonderful beta, without whose help I could not go without; HTR and also to APK for all her help!

Find the Edge of Reason - Part III Rebirth

(excerpt from previous chapter)
She panted and writhed, aching to have this feeling released and Jack’s fingers were moving in too slow circles over her clit, rubbing moisture from her opening over her flesh, causing it to feel slick and heaven help her, wondrous. Desperately, she pushed against his hand, her mind and body wanting more than a simple release.

Jack chuckled behind her, his low laugh seeming to delight in every writhing movement she made. It seemed as if he wanted nothing more than to strip away her control and reduce her to something less than human - a creature incapable of words or rationality, where the only sound of begging was torn from her mouth in the form of screaming. The rumbling against her back only added to the intensity of her arousal, making it seemingly impossible to maintain her sense of self and making it that much easier to give into him completely.

The cool brush of metal sent chills coursing down her spine as Jack’s rings swept up the centre of her lips, lightly grazing over her clit. When he slipped a second finger inside of her, the strength of her body gave way, and she collapsed against his chest; lifting her hips off the ground to meet the movements of his hand.

His fingers were turning her into pure molten gold; his ministrations were playing her body like a fine musician playing on a harpsichord. Her body was taking over, moving against him in a way she would not have thought of before, and she was not in control any longer. That had been taken the moment his hand made contact. She wanted him. She desired him.

Fingers moved over her, spreading her open, sliding over her labia and making her slick to the touch. She had never before felt so focused on a single bodily point. It seemed as if the sand was giving way beneath her and sweeping her away on some tide she had never seen, let alone experienced. The running mantra in her head continued. She wanted him. She desired him.

All these feelings were culminating to a point where she wanted him inside her, for him to bear down on her and lift her legs high in the air, grab her hips and thrust inside her. She had seen the very act performed in front of her; she had witnessed from a dark corner, her father’s valet and her personal maid. She recalled that it had caused some very disturbing feelings in her; feelings that at the time she hadn’t known what they were; feelings that she was now experiencing in extreme.

Her mind swam between the scene of her memory and this one; blurring, melding and pushing her over the edge.

*He’d had her pinned to the wall, her skirts pulled up, her legs bare and wrapped around his waist. He was pushing into her, his organ hard and slick with her juices.*

He held her against his chest, delving in her inner walls, his fingers moving rhythmically; her hips undulating as they pushed against his palm.

*Her head was thrown back, her breasts spilling over her bodice, moving in time which each thrust of his hips.*

She moaned her desire; her naked throat was a long, pale curve as she tilted her head back. She was breathing hard, her hands clenching her knees as she held them open.

*Each movement of his pelvis brought him deeper into her; each thrust caused his hips to slap against her buttocks; each thrust causing her breasts to move in time.*

The heel of his palm rubbed over her nipple, each motion shot sensation after sensation to her groin; the roiling, the pinching, the slight tug of the hardened nub. Every bit of erectile tissue in her body was begging for attention.

Elizabeth could no longer differentiate between what she thought was real and what she thought was a memory. She could only feel. She felt him brush his thumb against her clit, moving it in circles against her, pressing first lightly then firmly, teasing her to a pitch that had her nerves singing, aching to be released. The smell of heated male and the sea combined flooded her senses as his head leaned over her shoulder. She’d moved her head to the side of his neck, her lips pressed against his pulse. She could feel his rapid beat against her trembling lips as she mewled against his skin.

She felt his hand moving, his finger still caressing that secret spot just inside of her body. New sensations flooded her senses, overtook her mind, and tightened her stomach until she could scarcely breathe. Her breasts and loins seemed somehow connected, and every little sensation that coursed through her was heightened to the point where breathing was no longer the concern. She was lost in a sea of overwhelming pleasure, every movement; every breath against her skin, every flick of his finger tore away all sense of reality, trapping her between the fear of a girl and the understanding of a woman. They kneaded and massaged and advanced slowly down into her pubic hair and then turned sideways and began to massage her inner thighs at the juncture of her sex, working ever closer. Then they would brush against her, nipping, brushing, driving her closer and closer then backing away, until she would scream in frustration.

She did not want to be like this; she wanted to regain her power and fight against the force that was taking it from her, but she could not form her thoughts clearly. A pale haze settled over her mind as if she were seeing through a veil, masking the part of her that was still present. She tried desperately to shake it clear, to see again, and it began to relent.

Her body twisted around in Jack’s hands, coming back to her senses as he moved within her. She felt alive, truly alive, willing and strangely, teasing. Turning her upper body, she slid until her back was flush to his chest, pressing back against him as slowly as she was able. She felt deliciously wicked as she followed her instincts and darted the tip of her tongue, pressing it to Jack’s neck. He tensed beneath her, and that single action only added to her newfound confidence. She slowly moved her tongue; tasting him, savouring him, working her way along the side of his neck. She heard a sharp intake of breath, and that brought a smile, curving her lips against his skin. He shifted, and she could feel the instant reaction at the small of her back, pressing against her, hard and ready.

Without warning, his fingers tangled in her hair, and he snatched her head away from his throat, forcing her to look at him directly, tearing a startled gasp from her lips. He stared down at her intensely, his eyes as dark as thick line of black lashes above them. His body was drawn tense, his breathing laboured as he kept his free hand wound tightly in her hair. Brazenly, she held his gaze and moved one hand to his thigh. It jerked under her touch as she lightly flattened her open palm against him. She wavered in momentary uncertainty as she slid it up his leg, but the anticipation forced her push forward as she attempted to mimic his earlier movements. She twisted slightly to place her hand at his hip.

Without breaking eye contact, she traced the crease in his leg, down to the front of his breeches. She could feel him there, just beneath the thin fabric, swollen and pressing against it. She trailed her fingers over him, tracing him through the material and listened as his breathing grew deeper and more pronounced. She moved her hand boldly over his outline, sliding it lower to touch his sacs. She cupped them in her hand as they held one another’s gaze. His mouth pursed as his body shuddered. Biting her bottom lip, she gave him a slow smile as she moved her hand teasingly against him. He closed his eyes briefly and tilted back his head. She could feel him moving against her hand ever so slightly. At the feel of his encouragement, she leaned forward and placed her lips back against the warm skin of his throat. She could feel the smoothness where his neck met the curve of his shoulder, the smell sweat and sea that was inherently his scent and his alone, and gently suckled on his skin. He was still, his hands unmoving, one still curved around her hip, the other buried inside of her. She pushed herself onto his fingers as her mouth moved down over his bare chest. His entire body stiffened, pushing his fingers deeper, and she gave a little gasp.

Running her tongue over him, she traced the line of his collarbone down toward his sternum. She swirled her tongue over one pectoral muscle, feeling it tighten against her mouth; the light dusting of hair surrounding his nipple deliciously smooth beneath her lips.

She felt his fingers leave her and she moaned her disappointment into his chest. She lifted her head and took stock of his current state, the disappointment she’d felt washing away. His eyes seemed glazed over, his face drawn and his breathing laboured. It seemed he was trying to desperately get himself under control. She regarded him closely, so fascinated at this unexpected turn of events.

The headiness caused by his reaction to her actions prompted her to lift herself from him and sit back on her heels. Jack’s eyes were locked on hers, his face implacable and calculating. She stared back at him, wondering not how to play his game, but how to win it. She noted that Jack’s eyes seemed to move to Mercer many times, perhaps gauging his reaction.

She swung back to face Mercer. He stood there, a soldier of fortune, a free man doing what it was he loved most. He was calculating, taking the life of those that were unnecessary to the bigger picture; those that got in the way. He stood there intently watching Jack while he also toyed with her by his intense glances. His knife gleamed coldly as he finished cleaning it, now just holding it carefully balanced between his fingers. She found herself idly wondering why Mercer was even there in the first place. Her head cocked to one side, silently assessing him too before making her next step.

She watched as he quickly glanced at Jack; a look of alarm crossed his face momentarily before it was wiped back to the stoic mask he usually wore. She felt wicked, scandalous, as she sat on the sandy beach, half naked between these two men. Her body felt shockingly alive and she craved to explore this new desire.

Giving him a devilish smile she crawled towards Mercer, one knee before the other, gliding over the white sand.

Occasionally she paused; glancing back to the still form of Jack, his feet planted in the sand, elbows on his knees, dark eyes riveted on her. She laughed softly as she met his eyes, noting that his, more often than not, were not on her face, but on her rear. It must have been an interesting sight she thought, as it was still bare, owing to the fact that her shift was currently still up around her waist. She turned back to face Mercer, whom, as she crawled toward him, stared, alternating between her bare breasts peeking from between her arms and her open inviting lips.

She stopped at his booted feet, face to stockinged knee; her body barely inches away from him. She brought her gaze up to his, holding those eyes with her own as she first knelt up before him, the material from her shift falling down her arms leaving her arms, shoulders and breasts bare to her waist. The material threatened to slid further down her hips as she stood slowly, almost insolently, taking care to not touch his sleek frame.

Almost naked, she stood in front of him, dropped her eyes to rove over his slender figure, lingering over his tapered fingers that still caressed his knife. She stared at it in wonder and excitement, goose bumps appearing on her skin as she imagined the cool metal drawing over her skin. Her stance became more sinuous, her hips pushing prominently toward Beckett’s hired man, yet still maintaining that edge of distance. She heard him suck his breath in quickly as she took her bottom lip in her mouth. From beneath lowered lashes she stole a glance at his face, and her own breath caught as her gaze was held mesmerised by the darkened look of want in his eyes.

When he moved, she jumped slightly not having expected a reaction from him at all. He lifted up that knife so that he held it evenly between them. She drew in her breath, and he moved it so close to her skin, she could imagine the coolness of the blade against her skin. The tension was unbearable, almost unpalatable to her. She knew that it should terrify her, the knowledge of what this man was capable of, knowing where the blade had been before, taking the life of many a man before her. For some unknown reason, it mattered not. He would not hurt her; she knew this. Not here. They understood of each other. They didn’t take anything until it was necessary to do so. They both killed in order to survive for the grander plan, the one that would save lives. He killed because he wanted to, and he was paid well for it, all of his own selfish reasons that kept him a mercenary. That was her too, to do something because she wanted it.

She held her breath as she waited for yet another movement from him. The sun felt unbearably hot against her bare back and the breeze, though flowing did little to appease her heated flesh. Finally, he moved to place the flattened blade on the tip of her breast. A shock ran through from her nipple to her abdomen. The icy chill of the metal excited her and her hand came up of its own volition and started to stroke her skin, running over her collar bone, down over the small swell of her breast, trailing around her areole, teasing herself to a new height. She cupped her breast, squeezing it gently, capturing the tip between her thumb and forefinger. She brought up her other hand to cup her other breast, taking care to avoid the sharp edge of the blade. He seemed to realise this at the same moment and he lifted the blade off, but continued to watch her carefully.

Her bodily senses were heightened and she could feel the heat coming off him in waves. The scent of him came to her and she could not help but capture her breasts in both her hands, squeezing them, rubbing the heel of her hand up the swell of them over her erect nipples. She could see the beads of sweat gathering above his partially parted lips, the tip of his tongue captured between his teeth. She could sense that any moment now he would reach for her. She leaned her head back, knowing her throat was being offered to him. He would see the pale arch of her throat. She stilled for a moment as he ran the tip of his blade down the side of her throat before taking it away as he reached her collarbone.

She swallowed, hard, lifted her head and opened her eyes. He was so close that she could see every mark on his hardened face; feel the heat radiating off his coat; see the chill in his eyes; the emptiness in his soul. She could have him, this impassive man, this killer of innocence. But did she want him? She glanced back at Jack. Her mind was telling her that Jack instigated this, not her, that Jack wanted her to face her fears, to face herself. Letting herself unite with this man would mean embracing the darker side of her soul. Was she ready to do that?

Her own breath now came quickly; she held his eyes in a silent challenge. Deliberately running her tongue over her lips, she moved forward, tilting her head as if to move her lips to his. His eyes widened slightly before his lips parted as if to receive hers. A sly grin crossed her face and she ran her finger up his arm, traced his lithe fingers and casually took his knife from his suddenly nerveless digits. Her tongue peeked from the corner of her mouth for a moment before she threw back her hair and giving him a knowing look, turned away. Mercer was not the issue. She knew this now. Mercer was there to add a sense of adventure to this scene. He was just a manifestation of her own self; the selfish, cold blooded part of her that she knew existed, the part of her that shackled Jack to the mast and left him to be eaten by a vicious monster.

She stared hard at him, Captain Jack Sparrow; pirate Lord, Captain of the Black Pearl. A man who fought not with his muscles, but with his wits and his cunning daring; a man whom she knew was as manipulative, sly and devious as she was herself. A pirate. She sauntered back to where Jack sat indolently on the sand, her ripped shift slowly sliding down…down her waist, her hips… gliding down her thighs with every step, until she finally walked out of it altogether. Naked she stood in front of Captain Sparrow. She wondered for a moment if she was taking this too far. But one glance at the man before her, leaning back nonchalantly on his arms, his head now focused on the sea told her that she must play this game. Resolutely she bent over and using the knife, placed the tip under his chin and lifted it up towards her. He tilted his head to stare up at her, lifted himself up to where his arm could sit atop his knee. She looked down at him, and her face mirrored his. Both were mischievous, sly, and devious… a winning combination.

He raised one hand, sliding it between her legs, making her catch her breath. Her eyes widened at the feeling that rushed to her loins and she parted her legs more to give him better access. Jack gave her a lopsided grin, his eyes wickedly devilish before grasping her by both the hip and between her legs to pull her towards him.

The back of his bejewelled fingers stroked her hip, lingering over the curve, before turning his hand over, moving it to brush at her curls. He paused and looked up at her. She shook her head slowly at him, a small smirk on her face. His gaze held hers, and as he curled out his tongue, he moved his head towards her midriff. She held her breath in anticipation. He touched it to her abdomen, a call back to her earlier ministrations, and traced around her belly button before heading down her navel. She tangled fingers in his hair, her breath coming in slow, rasping gasps. Her stomach tensed more as he nuzzled her and she felt faint as he kneeled up, his lips at her skin, tongue caressing, his fingers teasing. Her own fingers were still entangled in his hair as he moved down, his tongue at her curls, gliding slowly, but surely between her legs.

To be continued