Unforgivable

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For a brief instant when she woke, Elizabeth wondered where she was. The faint scratch of blanket against bare skin and an unfamiliar but pleasant ache in her groin bought realization - and a cat-like smile.

Of course - she was in Jack’s cabin, having escaped there following her impromptu bath. She frowned. He’d been so huffy with her for slapping him – even though it had been thoroughly deserved. And when she’d confessed to forgetting their dry clothes, he’d sent her to get them with a non-too-gentle smack on her bare behind.

Annoyed, she’d wrapped herself in a blanket, fetched him breeches and shirt and flung them at his feet before stomping back to his cabin. Once there she had curled up on his bunk, needing to rest for just a moment….

She must have slept for hours! And where was Jack? Had he not wondered where she’d gone when she failed to reappear? Was he still sulking – or did he assume that she was? Had he crept in and discovered her here - stood over her as she slept naked in his bed? That thought bought a shiver of lust and a lavicious smirk to her lips that Jack himself would have been proud of.

Rolling off his bed she reached for her clothes and began to dress, grateful that she had at least remembered to bring them as far as Jack’s cabin before the thought of him had distracted her so.
Since there was no mirror or comb in evidence – she would have been amazed if there were – she settled for pulling her fingers through her hair to take out the worst of the tangles, then looked round for her boots.

Still on deck – naturally - where she’d abandoned them in frenzied haste along with everything else that stood between her naked flesh and his - including her inhibitions. Elizabeth’s cheeks reddened a little; then with a shrug she resolutely shoved the outraged thoughts of a governor’s daughter to the back of her mind.

“Pirate!” she whispered, grinning, and padded barefoot to the helm.

Mr. Cotton stood at the wheel, squinting against the setting sun. He greeted her with a nod and a sly smile, his eyes following her as she found and pulled on her discarded boots. Elizabeth met his gaze defiantly, grateful that he, at least, must keep his silence. As she stood up to go he gestured towards the steps, patted his stomach and winked.

“Beg pardon?”

He repeated the charade, this time adding an exaggerated sway of his shoulders.

“Ah. Captain Sparrow is in the galley,” she surmised, and he grinned and nodded.

“And why should I care to know this?” she muttered, mortified as she realised the whole crew were doubtless well aware by now that she’d been alone on deck with their Captain. And if the old sailor’s knowing leer was anything to go by, most had surmised that it was something decidedly more erotic than navigation he’d been teaching her…

Cotton watched as she fled, his indulgent smile growing broader when he saw the direction in which she headed.

“I’m just hungry,” Elizabeth told herself as she approached the galley. That’s all. And he’s probably gone by now, anyway…”

Yet as she entered her eyes swept the room anxiously until she found him, slouched over the table with a bottle of rum in one hand and the remains of a meal spread out before him.

“Captain Sparrow!” She nodded formally, purposefully avoiding the gaze of the half-dozen crew members who were also present.

He inclined his head politely, lifted his bottle of rum in a brief salute and gestured for her to join him.

Looking neither left nor right she crossed the room and slid onto the bench beside him. Without looking at her Jack quickly leaned in to curl his arm possessively around her waist and pull her close to his side. Then he looked at Gibbs and gave a curt nod. Gibbs scrambled to his feet to fetch a platter of salt pork and tack and a mug of grog, placing them before her with a rather embarrassed smile.

Elizabeth decided that the safest place to look would be the table, and she set about her food with an unwarranted amount of concentration. It was not the most appetizing meal but her stomach welcomed it anyway. And staring at her plate seemed infinitely more appealing than meeting the eyes of any of her current companions.

When the food was gone she braved a defiant glance at the sailor who sat closest to her and Jack – only to find he seemed totally unmindful of her presence. Looking round at the others she realised that they were all staring with rapt attention at the man glued to her side, entranced by the convoluted, fantastical and decidedly lurid tale he’d begun to weave shortly her arrival.

The consummate performer, he told the tale with many a flourish and gesture, reveling in the admiration of his audience. He also studiously ignored her, and as his story progressed she became more and more certain that he’d purposely chosen it to embarrass her.

Elizabeth sat beside him and quietly seethed. Determined not to let him win his little game, she cast around for a way to get his attention. His hard thigh bumped her leg again and she contemplated silencing him with a faceful of grog. Then, smirking, she settled on a much better plan.

Casually sliding her hand under the table, she placed it on his knee and squeezed gently.

Jack’s dialogue paused for a barely perceptible moment.

Leaning her other arm on the table, pretending to be as fascinated with his story as the others, her fingers drifted to his inner thigh and she caressed her way slowly upwards in light teasing circles until she reached the hollow of his groin.

He shifted slightly in his seat, drawing in a quick breath that only she heard.

Strong thighs squeezed together for a moment, trapping her hand, but this only served to increase the pressure between his legs and they quickly parted again, allowing her easy access.

With some effort Elizabeth repressed her triumphant grin and began to run her palm firmly up and down the soft bulge in his breeches, an answering warmth flooding her belly as he grew strong and firm beneath her hand.
.

Jack lost his train of thought for a moment, paused to take a gulp of rum and fidgeted slightly.

Seemingly recovered, he continued his tale, his brow creasing now and then as if in concentration.

Elizabeth could feel him straining against the material now and she curled her fingers around him, squeezing and kneading and rubbing, causing him to twitch and jerk impatiently in her grip.

The Captain seemed to be feeling the heat tonight, Gibbs observed: a faint sheen of sweat had appeared on his skin and he swayed restlessly, one hand clutching the rum bottle in a vice-like hold.

Elizabeth focused her attention a little higher, sliding the cloth across the tip of him with gentle but relentless pressure until his breeches grew damp where she touched him.

Jack stiffened, his fingers convulsing on the rum bottle as his other hand curled into a fist, but after a moment he carried on with his story, managing with some effort to keep his voice more or less steady.

Thoroughly enjoying his discomfiture, Elizabeth deftly slipped the first few buttons of his straining breeches undone, enough to slide her hand inside. He felt hot and firm, his juices slicking her hand and easing her progress.

Jack’s hips jerked sharply and he let out an involuntary moan.

“Mmmmm….Bellyache!” he explained to his curious audience.

Gibbs nodded in sympathy. That would explain why the Captain was so restless tonight. Although…he had seemed perfectly alright before Miss Swann joined them…

Elizabeth worked diligently, remembering Jack’s helpful advice and stroking him with a hard, rhythmic pressure, moving restlessly as she valiantly tried to curb her own arousal.

To his credit, Jack attempted to continue his tale, although he often stumbled over or forgot his words and seemed to be getting rather short of breath.

Elizabeth clenched her thighs together, feeling her own breath quicken, guessing from the tension in his body and the way he throbbed in her fist that he could not hold back much longer. She increased her pace, intoxicated by the power she yielded over him as his hips bucked again, delighted that she’d got him in this state just by using her hand.

Jack paused mid-sentence, his breath coming in shaky gasps, and Gibbs frowned.

“Maybe you should lie down, Cap’n..” he ventured, but Jack shook his head.

“No!” he choked. “Be…. fine……in…… just……. a……”

His words trailed away into a tight-lipped groan, his face contorting with what Gibbs and the others assumed was pain.

Elizabeth bit her own lips as she felt him pulse and jerk in her hand, sharp bursts of semen shooting hot and urgent against her palm and spilling between her fingers. She held him until he stilled then gently withdrew, leaving a trail of his own moisture on his belly.

Jack slumped forward over the table and Gibbs shook his head.

“Cap’n….please….You’re shaking……”

But Jack waved a hand in denial.

“M’fine, Mr. Gibbs,” he croaked. “No worries.” Taking several deep breaths he continued, “Off to your bunks. Or your stations. M’fine.”

When his men didn’t immediately move he raised his head and barked,

“I mean now!” and they scattered.

Elizabeth went to rise also but he caught her wrist in a vice-like grip.

As soon as they were alone he turned on her, sliding his hands up her arms to rest on her shoulders and pulling her forward.

“That,” he hissed, “Was bloody unfair!”

Elizabeth widened her eyes.

“Are you telling me you didn’t enjoy it?”

With a groan Jack closed the gap between them, covering her mouth with his and forcing her lips apart with his tongue.

Her arms slid round his waist as he kissed her and he leaned forward, pushing her back until they were half-lying across the bench.

“I should get the whole crew in here to watch me take you right now!” he growled, finally pulling away.

“Why don’t you then?” she challenged, and he groaned.

He sat up, pulling her with him, and stared gloomily at the damp patch on the front of his breeches.

“Too bloody late!” he complained, and she snuggled against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I am truly sorry, Captain Sparrow,” she murmured contritely. “I suppose it was a little unfair of me…”


Then she gasped as Jack’s hand slid down the front of her shirt to cup her breast.


“You’re a bloody liar!” he whispered, tracing her nipple with an agonizingly gentle touch. “Look at me!”

When their eyes met, hers were drowsy with desire. His grin was wide and laden with mischief.

“Better watch yer back, darlin’- or rather, yer front!”

Jack pulled his hand out of her shirt and rubbed it firmly between her legs instead, causing her to moan.

He leaned in to place a brief, teasing kiss against her parted lips and abruptly let her go.

Elizabeth watched him swagger away, breathless with frustrated desire.

At the doorway he stopped and swung back to face her.

For a moment his expression was stern – then he grinned and held out his hand.

“C’mon to my cabin and I’ll remedy that little ache of yours,” he purred.

Elizabeth moved with alacrity, reaching for his outstretched hand and twining her fingers with his.

As they set off, Jack mumbled something under his breath.

She gave him a questioning look but he shook his head and she shrugged, not really caring, at that point, about anything but the remedy he’d promised

As soon as she looked away Jack gave a truly evil grin and mouthed,

“I said, wicked Lizzie…. My revenge will be sweet……”