Parlait

Much thanks to all of you who review! Just so you know, I do my best for those who review, try to think of things you may like to read, so please, feel free to make your "requests!"lol And to Not Write Here: Well, my my my...why waste your life with me when Hector's out there, somewhere?lol Thank you so very much! My first ever online proposal!lol

And now I give you Chapter 8! Would love to hear from the other 1000 or so of you who've been reading this!:-)


“I am!” Elizabeth clung to the words, no matter how they made Barbossa’s eyes flare with what she swore were red sparks, his strong body leaning hungrily over hers. She should have trembled, did in fact, though she hated to admit it, but it was not wholly from fear. She’d wanted him so very much seconds before this argument erupted, and her need hadn’t been deflated, not even by the shouting that was occurring. He was a gloriously tempting mix of anger and arousal, muscles taut, nipples erect, eyes sharp, his cock as hard as she’d seen it that night; was it because of the fire of their argument, or because he suddenly discovered this secret of her un-attachment? If he took her now, what would it be like? But, he was also distracted, as stuck to insisting she was not married as she was to insisting that she was. And why? What did it matter now?

“By what means, Elizabeth?” Barbossa raged, both his huge hands gripping completely around her biceps. He could feel his own breath hot on her skin as he roared, mouth so nearly on hers, but not close enough. He fought the desire to kiss her roughly, just swallow up an protestations she had on this subject, make her see he was right in whatever physical way he could concoct. But he held fast, would not let his current amount of frustration and yearning lead to the regret that hurting her would most certainly be. She was something when she was angry, always had been, and it was quickly becoming more than he could take, his cock bristling with the blood that rushed into its head. “Sparrow ‘imself didn’t even marry the two a y’in open sea, Miss Swann!”

“Mrs. Sparrow!” Elizabeth snapped with vehemence that in no way suggested her eyes shifted from his broad chest to his hard cock furtively. She wouldn’t let go of this, she and Jack were married, they had to be; otherwise, the relief Elizabeth had felt slide over her at the instant Barbossa had figured it all out, would be real. Oh how horrible that reprieve felt…to know that she’d committed no sin in what she’d done, and what she felt, for Captain Hector Barbossa! She’d started out this night as his prisoner, felt secure in the powerlessness of her situation, could have later told herself she gave in to him because he was her captor. But now, as an unmarried woman, that meant she’d chosen to act against Jack, and for a man whom she couldn’t guarantee loved her at all. Freedom had never felt so uncertain and awful, and she chided herself for wanting it, and for wanting to be free to be with Barbossa! She could choose to now; choose a man who likely held no deeply rooted affections for her. It was there; unless she just kept insisting she was a wife. But she did want that freedom, however wicked it was; she fought it too hard not to want it, or him. He was beautiful standing before, lantern light flickering over the curvature of his muscled chest, turning the hairs there an even more vibrant red. Her eyes sank downwards again, she swore she could see his cock expand and contract; every bit of him was at the ready. “Jack and I said ‘I do!’ We made vows!”

“As children make mud pies, Ms. Swann!” He’d seen where her eyes traveled and his cock pounded, wishing it were her hands upon him and not her stare. This wouldn’t do for very much longer, he’d either have to win this argument now, or finish it some other way. He stepped closer to her, eyeing the wall behind her and thinking how nicely it would do.

Elizabeth moved backwards, her ire up even more now that he’d compared she and Jack to children. When his hands moved down her arms to her hips she felt herself shiver, the stirrings in her groin becoming more intense, her thighs wet, channel open, and painfully empty. She’d only held him within her there once tonight; it would be so satisfying to feel it again! If only it hadn’t become so imperative that she were indeed married, or at least, that Barbossa understood things that way. “I will not concede that Jack is not my husband, Captain!”

“Stubborn woman!” Barbossa growled, but then, that had always been attractive to him. He could smell the scent of her need for him; it was clouding his mind, made it more difficult to think. Soon it would be no use arguing, because neither of them would have any blood left in their brains, not while other organs strained so to be engaged. “This fight be not over, but would y’concede at least to ease me cock in that fragrant sea of quinny?”

He stepped closer again; his cock this time brushed her stomach, the head of it sticky with secretions and hot. Elizabeth’s body gave in before the rest of her did, a begging throb overtaking the space between her legs. It would feel so very good to have him now, complete something base within her. His bunk seemed so terribly far away from where they stood; she glanced around the cabin. “Where?”

“The wall, if’n ya please, Miss Swann,” but he wasn’t really asking, walked into her again, forcing her back against the wooden planks, slipping one hand down her thigh and prompting her knee to lift to his hip. The heat of her desire enveloped his cock, though it only brushed the crevice of her thigh, making the breath catch in Barbossa’s throat.

“Standing?” Elizabeth asked, but instead of an answer his mouth pressed impatiently over hers, his tongue wrapping around hers again and again. Each time he called her “Miss Swann” she was infuriated, but it only added to how badly she wanted him. The feel of his cock on her skin set her body into a quaking haste.

“Aye, standin’,” Barbossa’s answer was breathy, as he lifted her leg higher against him, but a smirk crept upon his lips. “Unless y’d be bothered to dispute this too?”

“No!” Her face wrinkled up, she didn’t appreciate at all how amused he was with the fight she upheld. She moved her legs further apart, glaring at him, daring him to take her, but she began to realize their difference in height impeded what each wanted so badly. She looked up at him, her expression softening with her disappointment and confusion. “But, how?”

Barbossa laughed, deeply and richly, how was it that Jack never had her up against a wall? Perhaps Jack was always too sloshed on rum to stand steady enough to fuck her? No matter, if the girl wanted to learn, he’d certainly teach her! He slipped one big hand between the wall and the small of her back, lifting her up with the other hand beneath her thigh, and hoisted her until she was about an inch or so taller than he was, pinning her securely as a surprised, but approving, “ohhh,” left her lips. She leaned down now and kissed him, begging the affections of his tongue as she sucked it in her mouth. He shifted against her, aligned himself as best he could as he supported her, his cockhead finally nudging her wet heat. Elizabeth moaned into his mouth, and he back into hers as he pressed her hips more to his, tucking her bottom under her with one hand, curving her pelvis to his, and at last he felt her slick opening against the swollen tip of his organ.

He could have bursted then, so frustrated with her, so encouraged by her lack of matrimony, and so electrified by the defiance she continued to show. Elizabeth Swann…so brave, so strong, so cunning, she was irresistible; so difficult to handle, but so easy to love. He thrust himself forward, meeting no resistance within her, her sheath swallowing him within it smoothly as both gasped and groaned against the other. She trembled between his body and the wall, gripping his big shoulders as he allowed her slide down upon him even more, a familiar ache in his tightening balls as he sank deeper. Her body clamped down upon his, making Barbossa growl again, his knees going weak for a moment. Perhaps he imagined it, but her anger seemed to have made her stronger than she previously was. If so, this would be good.

Elizabeth felt herself more deeply impaled than before and she squirmed against him, her feet inches above the floor still as she clung to his broad shoulders, feeling something flutter internally whenever the head of his cock touched it, and she begged for more, felt her clitoris shrug off its hood. Tremors were beginning, mild, subtle, but her body was gearing up, and each time she let herself lean upon Barbossa his cock pressed at something so far within her, and she could feel herself coming closer and closer to the edge. Jack had sometimes allowed her full control above him, this felt similar, but it was still Barbossa who was very much in command. She needed him to move, she’d cum quickly if he moved. She’d forgotten about their argument, but on the cusp of begging him to take her, their quarrel hurtled back to her, along with her anger. She allowed him to have her, chose to have him, but she couldn’t let him believe it was because she accepted herself as single. She grew bolder in this recurrent flash of ire, grabbed hold of the serpent pendent at his throat and gave it a fierce yank, pulling his face to hers, his lips nearly upon hers, fire in her eyes. “Fuck me,” she snarled to him, her mouth curved into a sneer, her body desperate. “But don’t assume it means I give up!”

Barbossa sighed, did his best to play unimpressed, but in truth her tone and the way she held the chain and pendent around his neck like it were the collar on a big, mean dog was more exhilarating than the sight of his cock within her mouth. “Don’t assume you won’t!” He pressed her knee more against his hip and drove himself forward, sharply, but not deeply, sensing he already met the length of her in this position. Her back arched away from the wall at his first stroke, her angry eyes closing as she gasped and her sheath tightened around him lovingly. She’d be a slave to this before he would, doing anything just to climax, a goddess deprived of a divinity he could give her. And he would. “Hold with yer legs, girl,” with his free hand he drew her other knee to his hip, feeling her feet wrap over one another just above his buttocks as she clasped him around his narrow waist. He didn’t have to support her weight so much now, was able to lean forward and kiss and suck at her neck, bracing one of his hands on the wooden planks by her head, readying to persuade her with his sheer lustful strength.

Her legs quivered as she squeezed them around him, his cock scraping up what felt like delicious little embers from along her inner walls as he thrust, setting them adrift throughout her body, nerve endings dancing with pure anticipation of release. He had more access to her like this, his cock filling her to her hilt each time he thrust back in with his hoarse and hungry grunts, her breasts bouncing pleasantly against his chest, nipples as hard as his were. Cum, make her cum; had there truly once existed moments when she didn’t want this man? She moaned, couldn’t get her breath; dropped the pendent and chain back down against his neck in order to secure her arms around his shoulders, her fingernails sinking into his tattooed back. “Don’t stop,” the words slipped passed her lips without her knowing. “Don’t ever stop!”

“Be it that good, Miss Swann?” He growled, staying with the pace he’d set, short drives of moderate speed, feeling all of her he could with each stroke, the tip of his cock jouncing pleasantly along each ridge like ring on the upper wall of her sheath. She was so wet that it made his foreskin slip effortlessly back and forth over his swollen cockhead. He could feel the tension beginning already, in the pit of his stomach, spreading lower. But Elizabeth was still ahead of him, her back arching towards him and her hips thrusting back at his with so much desire that only her shoulder blades remained against the wall. Jack had never done this with her? “Tis a pity yer wish is to be claimed as wife to a man who canst render such upon ye!”

At his words he thrust in a bit harder and deeper, turning her whole body cold as ice and then warm again by the fiery tremors that began once more deep within her. What was it he touched when he thrust deep? The neck of her very womb? “More,” she said breathlessly, clawing at his back and hardly noticing that he’d spoken at all. She wanted just one thing, to be fucked to orgasm.

“Answer me one thing first,” he stopped, shook her arms from his shoulders, quickly captured her hands and pinned them back against the wall. He’d make her hear him, make her listen, make her respond. Elizabeth’s eyes opened regretfully, and for a brief moment she tried to fight her hands away from his. Barbossa couldn’t hide his smile when her efforts quickly proved futile, and he began to feel her slowly thrusting herself against him, the sensations it created just enough to make her sigh and close her eyes beneath them again. The tension in his stomach sank lower, encompassing his groin as he watched Elizabeth doing her best to fuck him. Throw her off course; surprise her when her passions made her so vulnerable. “Me or Jack, Elizabeth? Which is it to be?”

“What!” Her eyes flew open again and she froze, only to have Barbossa move more against her until was it impossible for her perplexed brain to tell where she ended and he began. How was she to distract him, his body pressed to hers so that there was no amount of movement to seduce him into forgetting his quest, though his cock felt so hard and pounded so within her. “I won’t be forced to answer such an insipid question!”

“Insipid?” Barbossa repeated, half amused and half annoyed. Some of what she’d begged for may change her mind; he thrust forward, as deeply as he could go, Elizabeth recoiling in ecstasy’s throws between his body and the ship. “Yer no more married to Jack than y’be married to me, Elizabeth. And y’well know it!”

Her body poised for the rise of pressures and tensions to come crashing down, every inch of his cock within her touching something viciously delightful. Oh how she wished she could just forget that any of this mattered and give in, let him have his way, and he’d let her cum. No, don’t give in, she’d promised herself to Jack; wasn’t that all it truly took for a marriage to exist? “I made vows to Jack!”

The wicked part of him crept up, wanting to slap her for muttering such a thing, but Barbossa quickly stamped it out, rebuked himself for even thinking such a thing, and then repented with a soft kiss to her trembling lips. He’d never slap her, not again, and neither would anyone else. She hadn’t said she was married to Jack, just that she’d vowed to him. He was wearing her down; he’d have her in no time. Again he thrust forward, Elizabeth moaned, panted, twisted until he allowed her freedom enough to shove her hips into his drive. His orgasm slipped past its prime, further away now than it had been, but it was worth it. “And y’beg me to fuck ye?” He thrust again, setting another rhythm; sharp, short jolts that made her breathe even harder and moan even louder. “Some wife y’be!”

“Wife!” Elizabeth insisted, feeling that which she’d fought so hard to grasp slipping away a bit more each time his cock beat against that never before reached place deep within her. It was happening; she felt more wetness seeping around his cock, her nipples tingling, her body at its hungriest of peaks. A little more, just a little more, but she mustn’t loose herself! Tell him what they did was born out of nothing more than curiosity! “This…you—“ the Captain thrust deep again, cutting off her breath, her words evaporating in the encompassing flood of pre-climactic shudders and fog, her slit as a whole vibrating around his organ, body, mind and soul wound as tightly as all could bear, and Elizabeth began to unravel.

“Aye?” But as he’d feared, she slipped over the edge, crying out as the convulsions took her, lost in the spastic rapture from where there was no retrieval. Damn! He’d been so close to winning this; so close to making her agree that she was indeed an unmarried woman. Perhaps it wouldn’t happen tonight then, but it would happen, before he released her to Jack, she’d go back to him knowing that they were not husband and wife. Her constricting channel grabbed his shaft hard, almost like her mouth sucking him; he might as well take his pleasure now, fuck her until he came; this game was over. Barbossa felt her body release his, in between contractions, and he eased himself out, ready to slam in again, when he heard Elizabeth sigh, then her mouth found the ability to form words.

“I love you!” It blurted from her mouth without any effort or control as her body shook, hugging his cock as tightly as it could. Feelings swirled like a water spout inside her, annihilating her ability to think or reason, reducing her to a mass of basic desire and emotions. The upheaval was abating some, leaving a strange sort of satiation, a release like she’d never felt before, something more than physical, though her body wanted to slide down the wall to the floor, feeling indeed that she hadn’t slept long enough. Barbossa supported her in his strong arms, but he was suddenly still, so deathly still.

He wanted to debate whether or not he’d heard her say those words, wanted to tell himself he’d imagined it, but he knew he’d heard them clearly. The instant his brain comprehended “I love you” his body went numb, everything shutting off, cock going limp and sliding from her warmth. The last time he’d been so startled by anything it had been a pooling of red blood on his shirt, over his heart, and the cold. This was of the same magnitude, but not the same despair. Part of him registered that Elizabeth likely knew not what she’d said, but she’d said it; a drunken confession that could have likely not been made while sober. She loved him! A woman, for the first time in some 30 years, loved him! It felt good on his skin, good in his soul, good in his heart! Oh the mystery of this! She loved him? How had that come to pass? He’d only been trying to convince her of her marital status, and instead he’d managed to pluck this from her heart?

“Elizabeth,” he whispered, not even sure what he meant to say to her, the waters were yet unsafe to make any similar confession to her, her wits still not about her, nor his about him. But something inhibited his joy; the names on his chest felt as though they glowed red with anger, shock, perhaps even jealousy—their questions burned in his mind, “what have you done,” provoking fear to rise within him. If he promised, if he swore that he’d send Elizabeth back to Jack, not keep her and treasure her in his life, perhaps then those names would settle, let him at least have this brief happy respite with her. Elizabeth hadn’t known what she’d said anyway, where was the harm? To think that she loved him; that euphoria was stronger, overtook the dread that fought to control and haunt him, and he soon found Elizabeth held tightly in his arms, his lips to hers as if they were lovers kept apart for some long stance of time.

The Captain’s strong arms enveloped her, so did a warm, romantic mist, brought on by his kiss, and she held tight to Barbossa as she felt him lift her from the floor. Once again he was mysteriously tender with her, laying her gently upon his bunk and wasting no time aligning himself above her, scarcely taking his mouth from hers the whole time. Something had been physically incomplete as her climax raged moments ago, she hadn’t remembered feeling him cum, though he’d withdrawn from her rather suddenly. The urge she’d felt moments before their argument to have him cumming within her again returned. Fair was fair, she owed him his end, and hoped he’d take it as roughly as he’d been with her prior.

But something was different about him, his touch lighter, fingertips skimming her skin as though she were an alabaster sculpture, the other hand cupping her entire slit and massaging softly, no poking, no prodding, no grabbing a hasty handful, just the giving of pleasure that stirred her hips to buck as he kissed her adoringly. Her lips tingled with the light touch of it all, even his beard seemed softer against her skin, but all too soon he pulled away, let his hand stroke through her hair, gave her a small contented looking smile and then slid lower down her body before she could ask what had come over him.

It had been so very long since he’d found himself in the trough of this current, and he struggled to remember how it was that he used to let go of his control and allow feeling and emotion to guide him as a lover. His body still didn’t respond as he wished it to, his cock still flaccid, he was tired, the only things that kept him energized were his strength and Elizabeth’s love. Perhaps he was too old to still feel such, or his heart had sat so unused for so long that the memory had dried up and been blown away on the sea? He dragged kisses down her breasts and down her stomach, through the deep brown curls of her warm mound, determined to let the taste of her strengthen him to serve her; but as he moved his body down the sheets he was surprised to feel himself hard against them. Perhaps he was not too old, or had grown too hard hearted, to be her lover after all?

She was still ready for him, every pink crease and fold slick beneath his fingers and palm, and now that his cock had regained its erect state, he couldn’t wait to be one with her. But why pass up the chance to give her the pleasure of his mouth upon her most blessed of places again? He could hear the anticipation in Elizabeth’s breathing, knew she wanted this, and so he gave it to her, drawing the outer most lips of her slit closed and pressing the firmest of kisses to them with his lips, no different than how he’d have kissed her mouth. She squirmed and moaned, more so when he slipped his tongue into her as though searching for hers, only to soon have her swelling clitoris thrust against his mouth as Elizabeth jostled around, the taste of her honey flooding him. And so he treated her sensitive little nub as though it were her tongue, stabbing at it, wrapping his tongue around it, licking and sucking at it as he kissed her slit, Elizabeth straining below him the entire time as though she fought not to burst. Now he must have her, let both of them find the intensity of love as one.

Her whole body was aflutter, not understanding why he did what he did, but knowing what he was doing. Elizabeth may have only been with two men in her life, but she knew well when a man fucked her, and when he made love to her. Now, for whatever the reason, Captain Hector Barbossa became her lover, her paramour, his touch sweet and soft, his concern and caring bleeding through his skin and echoed with every beat of his heart. She did love him, couldn’t deny that any longer to herself, wife of Jack Sparrow or not. Did he love her as well? Is that what had overtaken him? Is that what she was to interpret? Barbossa was rising above her again, spreading her thighs wider, positioning her hips open and upwards, his cock so near her trembling opening, she wouldn’t last much longer without him inside her. For now, for this perfect moment, she let the thought of his love for her overtake her, wanted him to be her lover, wanted to be his lover, and accepted that in this precious space of time, they loved one another deeply.

He tipped her pelvis further upwards as he lay upon her, taking his cock in his hand and steadying it within her, Elizabeth’s thighs shook around him and the warmth and silky heat of her body bent him down to kiss her again. She gave all of herself in their kiss, opening her arms so that he may feel the extent of her breasts and nipples against his chest, allowing his tongue as deeply as it pleased within her mouth, her hips following the sway of his own as he rocked them both slowly side to side, sinking himself deeper into this paradise. “Be that too much?” He asked, knowing her legs were spread wider now, her pelvis more open and bearing more of his weight. But her swollen clitoris grazed his skin. “Y’ve only to move against me a bit, use me at yer whim.”

The most sacred part of her was locked against the most potent part of him. He was right; the smallest shift of her hips rubbed her clitoris directly against the nest of coarse red hairs at his groin. Elizabeth shivered, her teeth gently chattering as she tried to speak, she’d wanted him to cum, felt so tired again, wanted only to give him pleasure and have him not work to pleasure her. “You don’t have to be so gentle,” she breathed, liking the way his body crushed hers and thinking only of being manhandled once again until she dropped off to sleep, his cock pumping his hot seed within her.

Barbossa smiled and lowered his head to kiss her. “Ye’ll take what I give, girl.” Slowly he began to move, but not the thrusting motion he’d assumed all night with her, but a languid, easy circular motion of his hips, his cock pulling out just enough to swell the sensitive mass along the upper wall of her channel, and nuzzle it as his shaft swept slowly across every inch of her sheath. He closed his eyes, arching his back to better align his body with hers, supported his weight with both his hands on either side of her head, making Elizabeth’s hands grasp frantically to hold him. She was grinding herself against him, working her hard little knot against his body, her breath coming in heavy huffs as she did. Perhaps she’d call out that she loved him again? The pace was slow, delicate, but the head of his cock was swelling, tingles already beginning to tickle down his shaft and tighten his balls at the very thought of the words leaving her mouth.

Just as Elizabeth’s body would try to hold his cock against one place within her, it slipped away to press against some other part, leaving her in a state of constant contraction, wanting so badly to hold him within her and feel all that he gave her. His body remained solid above her, there for her to use, as he’d said, and that he’d given her that liberty felt better than the sensations of her clitoris being caressed again and again by his skin. Her pleasure had crept to its highest point, but their rhythm was so slow and fine it refused to break, kept her wound up and trembling beneath him as she waited at this peak to be pushed over the edge. “Captain,” her breath came so quickly she could scarcely speak, arched her back up off the bunk, her legs locked around his waist as she pulled at his shoulders with her hands. “I need you,” she thrust herself forward and held there, waiting for something to happen. “Please!”

Her urgency was clear. She was tired too; too tired to reach her point without his care. His own body had begged for a more traditional pounding as well, it wouldn’t be long for him either, and then he too would sleep; if not just pass out above her. But she wrapped him up too much, as pleasant as it was to be confined so. “Elizabeth, lie back.”

He had no breath either, sounded just as desperate as she felt, but Elizabeth’s body needed his too badly to let go of him. “Lie back?”

He smiled, pushed one of her legs from around him as he leaned down to kiss her, surprised and thrilled by how quickly her tongue thrust within his mouth. He let her have her way with his mouth as he straightened his spine to better take her, a willing victim to her great hunger. “Lie back,” he whispered hoarsely as her lips fell away from his, he cupped her cheek and chin, stroking her face, ear and hair, looking down at her dotingly. Oh what he felt for her, it consumed him! “Lie back and wonder if the rest of the world knows me eyes are so blue!”

What followed Elizabeth felt every fiber of, yet couldn’t distinguish. He thrust now, not overly hard, but her body had been so hypersensitive that she couldn’t tell if it were Barbossa’s thrusts that shook the bunk a bit, or if The Reproach herself rocked upon the ocean. There was a tumultuous storm within her, a battle between her body, her mind and her heart, a competition between the three, all striving to be the most prominently effected by this approaching climax, each with a frenetic stake to explode and somehow blend into a seamless oneness with her lover. “Cum,” she begged of him, pleaded with him to join her, felt his cock moving within her, again and again, matching her quickening pulse, his body above hers, loving her, his strength around her as he held her close.

Mind, body and soul all seemed to grab hold of her at once, sucked her down into some racing and reeling state, only to toss her out again, all portals as full of heaven as they could bear, and like cannon shot she exploded, Barbossa there to meet her in her splintering upsurge with a deep groan, shuddering body and hot gush of semen that he struggled to drive even deeper within her. Elizabeth felt herself choking up, so infused with her lover as he became the sea she drifted upon, gave her pleasure and release, gave her sanctuary and shelter, gave her himself, and love. She clung to his strong body even as her convulsions tapered, and tears began, flowing from her eyes in uncontrollable numbers as she sobbed the gloriousness of this moment against his chest.

By some luck of instinct he’d managed to wrap his arms around her and held her tightly as the ultimate bliss took his body and hers together. He’d felt his release clear to his heart, like a sudden puncture that both killed him and made him live again in the same ragged breath. He felt as though he’d blacked out, coming too again enveloped within love’s enrapturing glow, only to find Elizabeth sobbing so in his arms, her needs so omnipotently met. How he’d maintained consciousness still was all due to Elizabeth and her need to be held and gently quieted, his body ached for sleep now, but no, not until that peace found her first. Barbossa kept her in his arms, but rolled to his side, her forehead to his chest as he stroked her hair with one hand and held her close with the other arm. “Shhhh,” he traced her tears, kissed her eyelids gently, swallowing the tears that landed at his lips. “I’m here, sleep.”

Finally her breath came back, but it was shallow, she wanted to open her eyes, to kiss him and to hug him tightly, but she was too exhausted, body, mind, soul, none had the energy left. She loved Hector Barbossa, would have told him so, but as her fit had ended, he was now maneuvering her against him so that they may lie together more comfortably, her back to his broad chest now. She felt his lips softly against the nape of her neck as both his arm and his leg came over her, keeping her so wonderfully within his embrace. His big hand rested between her breasts, where she joined it with her own; their fingers immediately braiding together and squeezing tightly. The last Elizabeth remembered was being held so tenderly and possessively, and she dared anyone to come and be stupid enough to try and remove her from Barbossa’s arms; even the man she called ‘husband.’