Apprentice To The Sorcerer

The package was a coat. Jack unwrapped it like a child at Christmas, his eyes sparkling. Dark brown to match his eyes exactly, the gold piping on it made those eyes glimmer. “I remember now,” he said, sounding delighted. He put it on. It fit. It fit him so well and looked so good on him I sat stunned.

“Oh Jack,” I whispered, finally finding my voice. Rising, I walked to him, stroked him down his arm. “It compliments you. All your clothes should be fitted.” I let my gaze linger on his shoulders. “In all seriousness, you look very good.”

Jack preened a bare moment. Everyone liked attention, and Jack liked it more than most. “Oh, yes?” he asked, fishing for more, lilting his voice.

“Oh, yes,” I said. “I wish you could see yourself.”

“I’ll look through your eyes, shall I?” he answered playfully. “But will I like looking at a rum-soaked, wobbly-legged pirate? I think I’d rather look at you.” He pulled me into his arms suddenly, taking me by surprise. “But you’re supposed to be the one in fancy dress, not me.”

“I’d rather have your old coat,” I said, meaning it.

“You can have it,” Jack vowed. “Why do you want that old thing?” As he spoke he caressed me, running his hands over my back and sides languorously. “I c’d give you whatever you wanted. Hell, you c’d buy what you wanted all by your onesies.”

“I want it because it’s yours,” I said.

Jack laughed. “Spoken like a true pirate.” He drew back slightly to look down at me. “But you can’t put it on just yet.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d just take it off.” His eyes sparkled at me.

“But we’re in your cabin,” I protested.

“Lizzie, if you think you haven’t left an impact in here just because I haven’t had your body in this bed, think again,” Jack murmured, leaning back in to nip my earlobe. “This cabin screams of you. I like it that way. Even better, to really hear you scream in it.”

“But, if we fight,” I said, but he interrupted me.

“Then I’ll stay firmly at home, where I belong,” he proclaimed. “Why would I run off to the Pearl when you pitch your temper at me? One lady isn’t going to shelter me from another.” His touch gentled. “On my oath, Lizzie, I could never escape you in here.” He lowered his hands, skimmed his roughened skin across my bare belly.

I let him persuade me. His touch shook me to my core.

I reached under his shirt, lightly scraped my nails across his flat belly. He shivered, a breath escaping his parted lips. Desire heated his dark eyes. He reached behind me, took a lemon from the table and brought it up between us. “It seems I have more reason than ever to love these,” he murmured, smiling.

Looking up into his face, I smiled back, though a bit smugly. Taking a clean sponge from my bag, I held it up next to the lemon. “A worry-free honeymoon is very nice,” I said by way of answering.

Jack grabbed me. I squealed as he swept me up in his arms. To my surprise he carried me not to the bed, but to the hatch. He kicked the barrier open. “Any swab who interrupts us better be dying,” he announced to the crew. “And if he isn’t, he soon will be.” Jack slammed shut the door.

I couldn’t help a squeal as Jack tossed me onto his bed. Chuckling, he followed me down, pinning me to the straw mattress at my wrists. “Mrs. Sparrow,” he murmured, leaning down to nuzzle my ear and nape. “Mmmm, what a pleasure it is to call you that.”

“Mrs. Jack Sparrow,” I repeated, somewhat breathless from the sensation of his lips. “We’ll be a family of four if you don’t let me put this sponge in.” I squirmed as he applied his mouth to my throat. “I doubt Scorby wants to baby-sit so soon.” All the while I spoke, I tore at my clothes.

Jack snatched the sponge from my hand, sweeping his other down to his boot while sitting back. He knelt overtop me, smiling as he drew out his knife. Not looking, he brought his knife down, slicing the lemon on the table beside us. It fell into perfect halves. Taking one, he squeezed it into the sponge and then tossed the rind in the floor. “I won’t rush you into babies,” he murmured, still smiling. “I want time to have you all to meself.”

Reaching out, Jack put the wet sponge in my hand. “Hold this for me, will you?” he asked. “I have something rather important to do first.”

I thought he meant to undress, but he did not.

Before I knew it, Jack had my ankles in his hands. I looked up into those dark, dark eyes, forgetting to breathe. Slowly, he slid his fingers up my legs, lowing himself over me as our skins made heat together. “I could come just looking at you,” he said against my pelvis, thrusting his tongue out for a taste of me. His hands skimmed my ribs, traveled farther upward until they covered my breasts. “I’ll never get enough of you, Lizzie-beth.”

Even as his tongue slid into my lower lips, Jack found my nipples with his gentle, calloused fingers. So much sensation at once! I bucked under his attention, gasping when his arms forced me to lay flat again. His hair slid over my spread thighs as a silken, rasping curtain. I felt his linen shirt rubbing my legs, a sharp contrast to his tongue. My womb fluttered. Climaxing, I screeched, uncaring who heard.

“Fast, aren’t you?” Jack whispered, smiling against my leg. “Could it be you’re excited?” he teased. “You’ve squeezed lemon juice all over the planks.”

Bleary, still panting, I looked to my clenched fist and the puddle of citrus on the boards. The distraction proved nothing but a clever ruse. The moment I turned my head, Jack surged upward, covering my body with his. Our eyes met. I stared into those dark, warm depths, glazed with pleasure and the feel of his sinewy, muscled flesh.

Slowly, Jack took off his bandana. “You must not become too excited,” he murmured, lips curled in heated humor. He took the sponge, laying it upon the table. Taking my hand, he ran his tongue up and down it, tasting lemon and myself. “Mmmm,” he moaned lowly. “I want time to savor your taste,” he confessed, “but I don’t think I’ll get it unless I just take it. You’re too feisty to reason with.”

So saying, Jack suddenly had my hands joined. Reflex made me try to jerk free, but I failed utterly against his strength. That blessed feeling of helplessness swept over me as he wrapped his scarf around my wrists in one, swift motion. I heard the clink of metal then, felt my arms hauled above my head.

Jack tied me to a lantern o-ring in the bulkhead.

“Honeymoons aren’t usually about tying people up,” I said casually, though my heart beat double time in nervous anticipation.

“Very true, dearie, very true,” Jack murmured in reply. “But I’m a pirate.” He paused, sitting back, a slow smile spreading over his mouth. “And so are you,” he added. “I promise you’ll not mind being restrained. After all, I didn’t. I’ll let you tie me down again if you’re good and if you aren’t leaving me to some beastie or another.”

I didn’t even feel a pang of guilt now. Jack teased me, I knew it in the bottom of my heart. Yes, he had me helpless, but I wasn’t a prisoner to anything but his love.

And he still hadn’t undressed. For some reason that made his position of power all the more acute to me. I lay quite naked while he sat clothed in every stitch, even that beautiful coat. His only concession to our pastime seemed to be the fact that his weapons lay on the planks by the bed.

Eyeing me, his lips as mischevious as his gaze, Jack took the other lemon half up. I watched the ropy muscles in his long arm flex and twist as he clenched his fist. The sponge filled with juice again. “I nearly lost myself watching you put one of these in the first time,” he said, his tone conversational and light. “I can imagine the top of my head might come off if you actually touched yourself for me.”

I blushed so hotly I felt it. “I can hardly do so, like this,” I reminded him.

“Oh, aye, but I’ll save that for later,” Jack commented, grinning. “I need the top of my head today.” His slim fingers snatched up a very small box on the table, into which he deposited the sponge.

I felt a twinge of nervousness. Not that I didn’t want children, but surely we were on agreement that we didn’t want them right now?

Jack caught my look. “I wouldn’t force you to bear, Lizzie,” he admonished lightly, affecting a mock look of hurt. “I have something else I want to do first, that’s all. What with all your lectures on dirt and contagion, I thought it best to keep the sponge clean until needed.”

I relaxed a bit, feeling foolish for doubting our relationship. Star or not, feminine insecurity reared its ugly head. Sometimes my lot in life seemed too good to be true.

My musings evaporated upon darkness covering my eyes. I smelled the musk of Jack’s shirt and knew he’d wrapped the sleeve of it around my eyes. He let his finger trail down my jaw, skimming my over heated flesh. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “I’ve married such a beautiful woman. Me dear old da would never have believed I could land such quality.”

“Jack,” I ventured. “Why am I tied down and blindfolded on our wedding day?”

“Love is blind, Lizzie, and marriage is a tie,” Jack answered, cupping my chin. “I merely bow to the symbolism. I’m very big on symbolism, you know.”

The next instant he captured my mouth. My insides melted, turned molten at the possessive, almost harsh power of his soft lips. I felt I could breathe in his soul when our mouths mated. Tingling sensations ripped up and down my spine. Writhing, I attempted to sit and failed completely. Frustrated, I growled at him. “I don’t have you blindfolded and tied down,” I argued.

“A very good point,” Jack admitted, his voice low and dark. “You’ll have to return the favor sometime.” His hands coasted over my body at leisure, his light touch a maddening promise of deeper caresses. “I’ve never been tied down for loving and I’m anxious to try it,” he informed me.

I heard the tell-tale sound of a cork leaving the mouth of a bottle.

“Now that the hole in my mouth is closed up, I’m ready to try two of my favorite things together,” Jack said softly. “Rum and my Lizzie-beth…” I could hear the grin on his face. I gasped as a trickle of alcohol splashed and then moved down my stomach. It pooled in my navel before running off to each side of me. Jack chuckled at my surprise. “Not that anything could compare to the way you taste,” he added. The rum felt cold and hot at the same time as it flowed between my thighs.

I squirmed in surprised delight as Jack lapped the rum from my bellybutton. His hair and his tongue remained the only sensations upon my flesh. He took that wicked tongue, drew it up and down wherever the rum touched me. “We always rush when we mate,” he said, breathing his words across my wet skin to heat me even more. “I want to savor you. You are not to be hurried through, though you like it so much. There is so much more to do than just stick my cock in you and explode.”

“But I like that,” I groaned, fighting my restraint. He’d tied it just tight enough to keep me immobile, curse him, but not tight enough to hurt.

“I know you do, and believe me, it flatters my overdeveloped vanity very much,” Jack answered. His lips dragged over my ribs. Rum splashed over my nipples, raising them to hard peaks. “But you belong to me now, Lizzie-beth, and if I want to slow down, I will.”

All sensation narrowed to my breasts. Jack sucked the rum from each nipple slowly, maddening me with his unhurried tempo. I felt wetness burst from between my legs, urged forth in the bounty of lust he created. His suction upon me made me feel loose inside, and burning hot. I cried out, arched as his teeth gently bit down. “Oh my God,” I gasped.

“Still, no,” Jack corrected, nipping a trail downward. “Still just your captain, your lover, and now, your husband.”

His tongue parted the folds of my labia. I shrieked, my back coming off the bed. Jack used my motion, wrenched my legs apart and upward. I felt him kneeling in between. He planted my feet firmly down, holding me bent like a bow. “Arse down,” he growled. “You’ll be here too long to hold that position.”

Trembling, I lowered myself. I nearly came right back up when I felt the cleft of my cheeks touch his finger. He made a noise deep in the back of his throat, a sound of want and desire. “You’ll like this too, I promise,” he said. “Forget thinking and just feel.”

I shook like a plucked bow. His gentle finger toyed with the rim of my arsehole, threatening to enter at any moment yet never quite pushing hard enough. Something wet and slick dribbled over our contact. Jack’s tongue entered my aching cunt, planning flat against my clit. He lapped at me, his relentless, sweet pressure making my sightless eyes roll back into my head.

“This hole has more uses that what you know,” Jack said against my quim. “Relax, Lizzie, and let me show you.”

I gave myself over to him, forced myself to calm. He pushed against me, murmuring words of encouragement in French that I hadn’t the wherewithal to understand.

It felt strange. A distant part of me delighted at the invasion, relished the sheer dirtiness of what he did. That feeling blossomed into surprise and then amazement as he entered me inch by inch. Jack’s persistent mouth moved my folds and clit all the while his finger invaded my arse. It was a feeling of completeness, of surrender, of his dominion over me. I panted and groaned under his ministrations, in awe of what he did to me.

“That’s it, Lizzie-beth,” he praised. “It feels good, doesn’t it? There’s nothing wrong with this.” He bit down on my sensitive pearl, thrusting his finger farther inside. I clamped down upon him, feeling that inward touch wriggle. In seconds I felt that familiar tightening in my womb, the building of sweet pressure that heralded a climax. Jack pushed and pulled in a sudden, fast rhythm, flicking his tongue over my bud rapidly.

I came so hard I lost my breath. Crying, jerking, I felt my existence shrink to his touch and only his touch. The mattress under me disappeared. My ears went deaf. Everything exploded to the white-hot sensation of him and my pleasure. Twitching and sobbing, I fell out of heaven and back into the cabin, sweat rolling off my body and the sound of thunder in my ears.

Jack withdrew his finger, sighing his approval.

Dimly, I heard him washing his hands in the bowl he always kept on the table. The hinge of the tiny box creaked. The bed dipped as he put his weight down on it once more. “I’ve wanted to do this,” he murmured, easing the lemon-soaked sea sponge up into my birth canal. “If I could crawl up inside of you myself, I would. You’re a heaven I never thought I could reach, Lizzie.”

“Jack,” I groaned, feeling heavy and lethargic. “You could sweet talk the devil.”

“The devil’s already heard my lines,” Jack responded, chuckling.

He fitted into me. I felt his hands on my hips. Slowly, he established a firm, rocking rhythm that maddened me. “Ah, now this is beauty,” he murmured. “A helpless beauty that leaves me beautifully helpless.”

Blind, I could only feel. And what I felt took my reason. How Jack knew I’d enjoy this, I couldn’t fathom. It didn’t matter, for he narrowed my perception into the feel of his hard length inside of me, the grasping of his strong hands, and the roughness of his cloth covered thighs. He had all the power when we mated, though we seemed to share it otherwise.

I thought to change that, just a little. The thought of taking Jack off guard appealed to me. I squeezed him hard with the muscles of my birth canal, delighting in his involuntary gasp of pleasure. “Lizzie,” he said, releasing a breath through his lips.

“Yes?” I squeezed him even harder. He jerked his body, tightened his fingers on my thighs.

“Not so very helpless,” Jack breathed. “You keep that up and I’ll-.”

“You’ll what?” I asked, tightening around him with all my might. It took effort, but oh did it feel good. I raised my legs, wrapped them around his waist and dug into his back with my heels, forcing him deeper inside me. “Tell me, Jack,” I teased, pulsing around him.

Jack made a whimpering noise. “I’ll find myself at my end before I’ve even begun,” he answered, groaning.

“Poor Captain Sparrow,” I said lowly. I tightened and released in rhythm to his, loosening on the withdrawal only to squeeze him like mad on the entrance. “Come for me, Jack,” I coaxed, wishing I could see his expression.

He shook all over and I knew I had him. Elation surged within me in the form of his come.

Jack collapsed upon me, breathing hard. “Conniving wench,” he wheezed.

“Pirate,” I answered. “And don’t forget it.”