--Chapter Nine--
An hour later, Nicola had bathed away the aches and grime, and dressed in a deep red gown over a white shift, her hair left loose to dry. The same deck hands that had brought her the tub carried it out.
Jack had returned her pistol to her, and her dagger, and provided a belt for her to wear them with. She was in the middle of trying how best to accomplish that when a knock sounded at the door.
"You may enter," she said.
The door opened and Jack stepped in. He was without his hat, or the pair of pistols he normally carried.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Shaken," she replied honestly. "I nearly died, all because I'm a-"
Nicola stopped, realised what she'd been about to say, and to
whom. She dropped the belt on her bunk and looked at him.
"I'm tired of being treated like chattel," she said. "My father simply wants to marry me off to the highest bidder and expand his shipping enterprise. Roccelli wanted to sacrifice me to some pagan god in exchange for eternal life and power. My only worth is my virginity!"
The captain lifted dark brows at her outburst. "I'm sure there's someone out there who'll be more than happy to relieve you of that. Plenty of someones."
Nicola thought maybe it was the blow to the head, or possibly all the hours contemplating her impending doom, that made her blurt out, "Are you one of them?"
He froze, still as a statue, for a good twenty seconds, before he said, ever so intelligently, "Uh."
Nicola blushed anew and looked away. "My apologies, Captain Sparrow, that was forward of me."
Jack cleared his throat. "Roccelli told me he'd . . . already done so."
She paled. "He didn't. I would- I would know."
"Much relieved to hear it," he muttered. "Nicky . . . I told Will I wouldn't touch you."
"Will wouldn't need to know."
He closed his eyes and rubbed a knuckle against the bridge of his nose. "I
try to keep my word. Generally. It's a bad idea, Nicola. I- No. I cannot."
Jack fled, leaving her embarrassed and confused. She knew he wanted her; it wasn't difficult to see. She wanted the same thing, and if Jack Sparrow was anything, it wasn't celibate.
Besides, Will had no right to dictate what she could or could not do. He wasn't her father; Leslie Holyfield was thousands of miles away, on the other side of the ocean, and he had no say in it, either.
She huffed a breath. There was no way she was going to leave the discussion at that. Leaving her boots beside the bed, she hurried up to the deck, and ran into Joshamee, who merely jerked his head and a thumb towards the captain's quarts.
She shoved Jack's cabin door open without bothering to knock, and stumbled to a halt. Jack looked up, pausing in the middle of peeling his shirt off.
Black eyes met blue, and Nicola flushed. But she didn't retreat. She stepped into the room and pushed the door shut with a foot and then crossed her arms defiantly.
Jack finished removing his shirt. He tossed it toward the bed and turned to face her. He didn't speak, just stood there. His chest was mostly smooth, with a few scars here and there. A skull and crossbones tattoo adorned his stomach, with script around it. The sparrow on his forearm, and the P scar, were both clearly visible.
She hesitated at the threshold and bit her lip.
He sighed and gave in, was the first to break the silence. "This wouldn't work between us."
"Why not?"
"Because," he said, as if speaking to a child. "I'm a pirate. A woman in every port an' all."
"You think I care that you've been with others? Because I don't."
His dark eyes tracked her movements as she took another step towards him. "You sure about that, love? That number, darling, is awfully high."
Nicola shrugged. "I don't care. I mean, as long as . . . you don't care that . . .
my list holds exactly none."
He knew. She was too innocent in her responses to be anything else, no matter what Roccelli had taunted him with.
"Do you have any idea, a real idea, Nicky, what it is you're offering?"
Silently, she nodded. Nicola took a cautious step towards him, and reached out to trail a finger over the tattoo on his stomach. "Jack . . . This is what I want. I know you want
me."
He wondered why he was having such an attack of conscience when it came to her. He'd tried shamelessly to seduce Elizabeth, but with this little thing before him, he felt like he was soiling something sacred. And since he'd posed as a cleric of the Church of England to do something illegal, that was really saying something.
Will's saving his life figured in there somewhere, The boy was a friend, and it was something of a betrayal to be thinking the things he was, looking at Nicola. But that wasn't it, not really. It scared him, this strange desire to protect her. Back at the cave, when he'd thought Roccelli had killed her . . .
He couldn't become attached, it was too dangerous. Too dangerous for her, for his lifestyle . . . and most of all, for his heart. Because he didn't know what he'd do if he let her in, and then he lost her.
"I'm not looking for marriage," she told him. "I'm not looking to shackle you. All I want is . . . to live according to my own rules for once."
Jack knew how she felt. It was what he'd wanted his entire life. "Be sure what you're saying," he told her roughly. "Because there's no going back."
Her small hand lifted to stroke his cheek. "Please, Jack."
With a groan, he hauled her in to kiss her, cursing himself for a fool even as he did. Nicola's arms went around his neck and she returned the kiss with fervour, pressing her lithe body against his.
Jack swept an arm across the surface of the desk, sending maps and random clutter to the floor. He lifted Nicola in his arms and set her on the desk. Her eager fingers explored the planes of his chest even as he fisted his hand in her hair, tipped her head back, and kissed her. Jack pulled her flush against him, pinning her hands between them.
She responded by hooking a leg around his. Jack leaned her back on the desk, and slid a hand up her leg, pushing the hem of her skirt with it. Nicola sighed against his mouth and he used his tongue to explore her lips. She whimpered and shifted restlessly on the desk, clawing her way free to hold his face.
His fingers slid up, over her dress, and caught the neckline of her bodice, pulling the material down to expose her shift. He cupped one breast through the lawn, tugging with thumb and forefinger at her nipple to make it peak and pebble. Nicola moaned, pulling back and breaking the kiss.
"Jack," she groaned.
The pirate tipped her chin up and pressed his lips to the side of her neck, both hands toying with her breasts now. Nicola was breathing hard, eyes closed and hair trailing across the desk and over the edge, only her hand curled around his neck keeping her from sprawling across the wooden surface.
Jack yanked at the neck of her shift, freeing the tempting globes and their pink tips to his hungry gaze and mouth. He licked one turgid peak and Nicola's hand slackened so that she dropped back, draped over the desk with both legs wrapped around his waist.
Drawing the bodice away from her body, he devoted rapt attention to sucking at both breasts, alternating sides so one didn't receive more worship than the other. Beneath him, Nicola undulated her hips, only a small bit of skirt and his breeches separating them. She felt hot and restless, and only knew she wanted more skin exposed, wanted him against her.
He pulled her upright and turned her in his arms, to work the fastenings of her gown. She crossed her arms over herself as the fabric fell from her hips to puddle at her feet. Jack grasped her breasts from behind and thrust against the cleft of her buttocks suggestively with the hard length of his erection. She gasped and pushed back in response, letting out a little moan.
Jack swept her up in his arms and deposited her on his curtained tester bed. She lay on the sheets, completely nude, and watched as he divested himself of his breeches, the hooded length of his manhood standing proud between his thighs, bent slightly to the left but upright. Her eyes widened at the sight and she flushed anew.
He knelt on the bed and moved to cover her, kissing her mouth before he trailed kisses down her luscious young body. Nicola stretched out on the bed, all sense of shame forgotten in the intense and passionate light in his eyes. She basked in it as he pressed his lips to her belly, his beard tickling the sensitive skin as he made his way south.
He pressed her legs apart, eyes focusing on the curls at the apex of her thighs. Parting those curls, Jack slid first one finger, then two, into her tight passage. She bit her lip and whimpered a little, his thumb rubbing over her clitoris as she instinctively clenched down on his digits. Then he bent his head to the pink flesh hidden within and delved inside to taste her.
Jack Sparrow was possessed of a quick wit, and a quicker tongue, and he put the latter to excellent use. When he flicked his tongue over her clit, she jumped and said something rather coarse in French. He chuckled and she gasped at the vibration.
He moved the tip of his tongue around the sensitive nub in circles, still slowly thrusting his fingers into her tight warmth. He withdrew them after a moment and used his tongue instead, before wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking on it.
Nicola lay rather immobilized by the new sensation, gasping for air as he pleasured her. She knew she was wanton and lustful, having brought herself to climax on several occasions even though the church said it was a sin. But it had never felt like this, never.
Jack lifted his head, fingers still working furiously. He licked his lips, needing to watch her face when he brought her release. It wasn't difficult to tell when it happened. Her hips jerked, her hands fisted in the bedding, and she sucked in a breath so sharply that she bowed off the bed. Jack thought that right then, she was the most beautiful creature he'd laid eyes upon, with her flushed face, kiss-swollen lips, and heaving breasts.
He slid his finger back into her tight passage, felt her grip him, and decided to ease this next, unfortunately necessary, part as much as he could. He bent Nicola's legs up, steadying himself with a hand, and plunged into her as her orgasm still shook her.
Her stormy eyes widened with shock as he entered her. She made a high, tight sound and he hated that he'd caused her pain. "Hush, love. Worst is over." He dipped his head to kiss her, the braided ends of his beard tickling her neck. "Alright, there?"
Nicola blinked away the tears that had sprung to her eyes at the sharp pain. "I think so," she whispered, touched by his concern. If she hadn't loved him already, she did so then.
It hadn't been as bad as she'd been told by her mother to expect, and she was grateful Jack had gotten it over with quickly, if unexpectedly, and that he'd used that indescribable pleasure to cushion the blow. She marvelled at the new sensation of him filling her.
Nicola wiggled her hips, wincing a bit at the slight sting. Above her, Jack sighed.
"Hold still, Nicky, or you'll unman me," he told her.
"Does it always hurt?" she asked in a whisper.
"No," he said gently. "It won't hurt in future."
"Good."
Nicola crossed her legs at the ankles behind his back. She tried to relax as he began to move, slowly rocking his hips to get her used to the motion. She let her hands move over his back, concentrating on the play of his muscles under the tanned skin rather than the gradually fading pain of her rended maidenhead.
Jack kissed her, teeth nipping lightly at her full bottom lip. He braced himself on one arm, keeping his steady rhythm as he caressed her breast, working to bring her to fever pitch again. Nicola didn't deserve a quick and careless bedding, especially not for this, her first.
Her breathing deepened and she tightened her grip on his thighs. In response, Jack picked up his pace. Her fingers curved into his shoulders, palms growing sweaty. Nicola stared into his dark eyes from inches away, a little awed by the enormity of the experience. She'd told him she didn't want marriage, didn't expect it, but he'd already ruined her for all others, even before he'd actually ruined her. This only set in stone the fact that she would, forever after, be hopelessly in love with this pirate.
That tight, breathless feeling took hold of her again and she uncrossed her legs, bracing her bare feet on the bed to push up, meeting his thrusts eagerly now. All hint of discomfort was forgotten. Jack put both hands on either side of her and leaned his full weight and strength into the effort. She wasn't vocal, other than breathy little gasps and moans, because she didn't know the words yet for what she wanted.
"Nicky," he groaned.
Her name on his lips pushed her over the edge and she fell apart, nails clawing at his back as she arched beneath him. He couldn't hold himself back any longer and Jack let himself go, pouring himself into her with a gutteral groan. He had the presence of mind to not collapse on her, instead rolling them over so she lay on his chest. Nicola still trembled and he caressed slow circles on her back until she relaxed and resumed normal breathing. Idly, Jack tangled his fingers in the long, bronze strands of her hair.
After a long while, Nic stirred and lifted her head. "That was . . . I have no words for that. Is it always that way?"
"No," he admitted. "Not always." In fact, he hadn't had an experience like that in a very long time. He smoothed the silky locks under his hand and said, "Sleep, Nicky."
She rested her head on his chest, falling asleep to the steady beat of his heart and the languid rocking of the ship.
-----
Jack was gone when she woke to darkness. For a long moment, she wondered if she was back aboard the
Blood Storm and everything that had happened with Jack was a dream. Nicola sat up, realising quickly that she was nude beneath the sheet. It hadn't been a dream.
Her cheeks flushed and for a wild space of time, her heart pounded in her chest as she wondered just what she'd done. She'd given herself to a pirate, a man who could not offer a secure future for her. No decent man would have her now. She could make a life for herself in Port Royal, perhaps, but she was spoiled goods. She'd offered Jack her virginity on a silver platter, giving him the one thing she should have jealously guarded.
And speaking of the pirate, where was he? A full moon rode the horizon, nearly touching the sea. All crew save the night watch should be abed, including the captain.
As if summoned, the door opened and Jack came in, dressed in breeches, shirt, and boots. A lantern hung from one hand, a bundle wrapped in cloth in the other.
"Victuals," he explained, hefting the package. "I would imagine that you're hungry."
Nicola was, in fact, hungry, and she nodded.
They shared a light repast of bread and meat liberated from the
Blood Storm. Then Jack reclaimed his place beside her, drawing her into his arms with singular intent. Their second time was easier, more familiar, and when Jack fell asleep beside her, Nicola lay awake, wondering how she was going to survive parting ways with him when they got back to Jamaica.
