Sparrow in the Wind

Chapter 9


The bright light of morning was harsh on the sensitive topaz eyes, yet Morgan welcomed the day with fervor. How could anything amiss happen on a morning of such perfection? With a spring in her step that came from intense sexual contentment, Morgan bounded up the narrow, gangplank leading to the Reaper’s topside and inhaled the familiar fragrance of her ship. Moving to position herself by the captain’s wheel, she smiled as she noticed Shaw nearing. Ever on time and always ridiculously overdressed. “Good morning, Shaw,” she said in a husky, cheerful tone. “Isn’t it a grand morni


"Quite so, Morgan," he replied, moving with gracefully practiced steps towards her. His mood lighter now, after his meeting with Swann, than it had been when the whelp Bowen had turned him away the night before. "Might I inquire just where you absconded to last evening?" Inwardly he cursed himself, wanting to bite of his rash tongue, for overstepping his position with the woman before him.

With a shrug, she brushed a bit of her hair back from her shoulders unaware of uncovering a freshly bruised portion of her throat in the process … the evidence of a night of untold passion. “Sparrow and I had things to solidify,” she said simply. “I trust all was well here?”

"Well enough, I suppose." He glared at her trying to keep his rising ire in check. She had made a total and utter fool of him, and with Jack Sparrow to boot. He had known it was a possibility that the two would become intimate again but had never really let himself entertain the idea.

A genuine smile touched her lips as she moved toward the deck hatch leading below. “Good. I’m sure that Mr. Glasspoole kept a keen eye on all.” Searching his face as she moved to the lowering steps, she raised a curious eyebrow as she noticed his scowl. “Is something amiss?”

"Nothing at all. Why do you ask?" He feignndifndifference trying to hide the dismay, the anger, and even hurt that he had for all intensive purposes been set aside.

A hearty peal of laughter came forth. “My dear Mr. Shaw … from others you may be able to hide yourself. To me, you’re an open book.” She descended the steps still speaking. “Come with me. We have things to discuss before we meet aside the Pearl.”

"Very well." He huffed, taking to her heels. "But I hardly think our discussion should be regulated to the bowels of the ship, Morgan." He prattled on spitefully.

“I’d hardly call my bedroom ‘the bowels of the ship,’ William,” she said drolly as she opened the door to the captain’s quarters. Before the entrance was opened completely, her eyes clapped on two male bodies, one gloriously naked, his impressive ass and muscular back facing her; she could only assume it to be Mr. Bowen due to the ruddy colored hair. The other man, as naked as he, was running loving and gentle kisses along the well-formed chest in front of him. Caught in the act, both men turned to stare, eyes like saucers, obviously embarrassed at being caught in such an intimate act. Using her body to hide the sight from the man behind her, Morgan slammed the door shut quickly as she turned to William. “On second thought, I’m famished! It was along and contemplative night and my body could well do with some nourishment.” Turning him quickly, she pushed him toward the small galley thus saving the privacy of the two men … who would owe her dearly for this.

“Come now, Morgan, it's not as if I haven't seen your private sanctum before...." He turned in the narrow space intent on forcing Morgan's hand.

In a flash she pushed him against the wall of the tiny corridor, using surprise to her advantage. Her arm quickly pressed flat against his throat to cut off air supply. “Shaw, one step further and I will flay you alive and feed your innards to the sea.” Her eyes narrowed. “I said I’m hungry!”

He gave into a wayward sigh his eyes locked upon hers. "Very well, it's not as if there is a thing to be had inside anyway." He sagged in defeat against the restraining arm; eyes alight with a betrayed flame. "And Morgan, your threats are becoming a dreadful bore."

She chuckled deeply and, removing her arm, patted his cheek condescendingly. “William, dear. Your lies are becoming easier and easier to read.” She leaned into his ear and spoke softly. “You’d have me here in the hallway if I’d allow it. If want to show a woman you’re bored with her, best not to look at her as if you’d like nothing better than devour her.” She again shoved him toward the door of the galley. “And as for boredom, Shaw … your insatiable desire to keep me to yourself is what lost me to you months ago.” She sighed as she sat on the table’s bench and leaned her head back to the wall behind her. “Now, as I said, there’s much to discuss. I want perfection before Sparrow arrives.”

“Wouldn't it be a bloody wonderful world if we all received what we wanted." He sneered, reaching down to adjust his now aching groin, his manhood having reacted violently to Morgan's nearness. She had fanned a smoldering flame to full life inside him, causing a raging erection to take him unaware.

Now-amber eyes moved unconsciously to the bulging member before rolling sarcastically. Moving to pour herself an early morning ale, she shook her head in mock sympathy. “Oh do something about that, will you? Take a few moments if you must but let’s concentrate on work, ne-c’est pas?” Dramatically taking a large gulp, she returned to her seat, tapping her fingers on the table to give light to her impatience. If truth be known, the erection did nothing but cause her to miss Sparrow, damned his evil hide.

"I suppose it would be easy for someone that imparted with passion a full night to dismiss another’s suffering," he continued, easing slowly down to the table before him, grimacing when the placket of his trousers pulled over tightly against his flagrant erection.

Another gale of laughter erupted from deep within her as she barely contained the ale inside her mouth. “And when was it that you ever suffered in your life. Your entire being is created around nothing but fortune and pleasure.” A little grin spread across her face as she remembered her time with Sparrow. “And I must admit, imparted I was!”

With a swirl and flick of his wrist he dismissed her words, refusing to admit she was the only one that he cared to partake pleasure with. He would not voice the frustration that kept him from the port doxies. She had ruined for for all others and now he seemed relegated as a glorified ships mate.

Coming back from her erotic reverie, Morgan downed the remaining liquid and moved closer to Shaw. “Now, see to it that the men are prepared to leave when the order is given. Stocks and provisions have been stowed throughout the evening, as you well know, and I want to be prepared to raise anchor as soon as the Pearl is ready. I have one more discussion to have with him and then we’re away.” She returned her tankard to the wash barrel hoping against hope that Sparrow would arrive earlier than planned. “Any questions?”

"What exactly will you require of ME with this excursion?" His face took on a pinched appearance. He knew no answer she gave would make this voyage to his liking/*Ÿ
“The same as always,” she shrugged, turning to the doorway. “Work with Mr. Glasspoole to keep the men in line and, when needed, be our fine aristocrat.” She smiled when she thought of how easily he fell into other roles. “I’ll let you know when we’re to shove off. Until then, I’ll wait in my cabin for Sparrow to arrive. Go upside and send him immediate, if you will.” And with a sweep of her hand, she ushered him from the galley and maneuvered him to the steps under the deck’s hatch.

Topside, he slammed his closed fist against the nearest wooden surface. Unfortunately for him the roughened wood released a volley of splinters. It could have qualified as an attack launched by a porcupine if one hadn't know better. Nursing his injured hand he glared back at the lead way where Morgan had disappeared. "The same as always..." He mocked with a flip of his golden head. "...Work with Mr. Glasspoole...." He turned uttering a heap of low curses. "...Bugger Mr. Glasspoole." Another in fortuitous incident, he came face to face with the very man he spoke of.

Standing like a wall of flesh-covered steel, the dark man glared at Shaw as if he were nothing more than a puny inconvenience. And then his eyes narrowed, his decorated face contorting in anger. “I didn’t quite catch dat,” he rumbled in his richly accented tone. “Say again?” The sound of knuckles cracking was ominously frightening.

His pallor began to deepen with the other man's question. He hadn't just made any mistake. No. He had just maligned one of the most fearsome men he knew. "I...I…" He began coughing vigorously. "Swallowed a mosquito..." Adding to the feign his eyes began to bulge in his head, tears leaking from the corners.

His face still a frightening mask of terror, Glasspoolddeddded. “Out of my way. I have tings to do.” His thick Jamaican accent haunted as the large man brushed past Shaw as if he were of little to no consequence. “Don’t jest stand dere, mon,” he threw over his hefty shoulder. “See dat duh galley be stocked.”

"Pray why why me?" He turned his face heaven word as if he were about to be impart with the divine word, perhaps a lightening strike in answer to the question.

Jack had taken it upon himself to put an eye to the Reaper, see that she was rigged for fast running and hard fighting himself. That is what he told himself at any rate, he honestly would have used any excuse under the sun to find his way to Morgan's side. Now, here he was eyes narrow on William Shaw's foppish back. He couldn’t help but hear the quick angered exchange between him and Glasspoole and decided then and there to dig the thorn in just a bit deeper. "Tasty snack was it, Shaw?" Jack clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, eyes alight with mischievous maliciousness.

Shaw felt the tension run through his spine as surely as if a ramrod had been shoved up his back. Sparrow. Slowly turning William eyed the ostentatious peacock with a disgust amounting to detestation. “Snack? What are you prattling on about, Sparrow?” He allowed his shoulders to stiffen but wasn’t sure how long he could hold off the intimidation that Sparrow always induced.

Sparrow raised a tapered finger and tapped at his bearded chin, his eyes shifting towards Glasspoole’s back. "Well, of course, I'm referring to the rather large mosquito you happened upon...." A sharp bark of laughter rent the air around him. "..While you were crowing about having your way with Glasspoole."

“Piss off, Sparrow,” Shaw hissed under his breath as he turned to leave the vicinity. Like a reoccurring ailment, Jack Sparrow had downed him again. But William Shaw would have the final treasure … Morgan Adams. Perhaps, deep inside, the flamboyant pirate knew this?

"Another of your pleas?" ?" Jack couldn't resist calling after him.

Shaw stilled a fraction of a second then continued on. Damn Jack Sparrow to an eternity in hell’s fire!

* * * * *

After ridding the corridor of observers, she glance around once mto bto be certain the coast was clear. Opening the door, she moved quickly inside her cabin closing the portal quickly behind her. Relieved to see the men were going through the last touches of dressing, she turned her eyes to Will. “Your captain will be in need of you soon, Turner. We’ll be shoving off soon.”

Nodding his head in agreement, he completed the last button on his vest and moved past Morgan. Stopping at the door, he moved back to the young man still standing beside the bed, took him proudly in his arms and kissed him soundly. “Until later, love,” he said sweetly before turning again and leaving the room, head held high.

"Quite so!" Bowen called after him, cheeks filled with warm rich color, his body infused with the thorough loving he and Will had partaken in. Turning submissive eyes to Morgan, he allowed just a hint of his new found manhood to shine through. "Captain."

A slow, sinuous smile found her lips as she watched the boy who had been like a younger brother to her straighten and blossom through the emotion of love. “Well I’ll be damned,” she said huskily. “Am I to believe that the love a good person has made a man of you, Mr. Bowen?” Her eyes shone with pride and affection as she added a sound of respect to his surname.

"Aye, Captain. That it has and I'm all the better for it," he practically crowed, straightening and squaring shoushoulders. Running his fingers through the downy thatch of his golden hair he gave her a pixie-like smile. "Love is truly a grand thing. I recommend you sample it."

Her chuckle belied the tug at her heart’s strings at his innocent words. “The only love for me is the love of my ship, Mr. Bowen.” She shrugged and lightened the mood of the conversation. “Besides, what grand gentleman can you see deigning to fall in love with me?” Her mind returned to the words of Sparrow and a warmth spread through her, damn blackened soul. “A pirate queen?”

"A pirate king..." He replied quietly, his eyes boring into hers.

She arched an eyebrow quite enjoying this new-found relationship with Bowen … moving to take it a step further by pressing him. “And where does one find such piratical royalty? The bottom of the blue, perhaps?”

"Upon a ship just across the peer." He lifted his chin in challenge, knowing the man he spoke of could be no more fit for his captain than if they had been molded from the same flesh.

An impish light flamed in her eyes. Oh, this was famous, this inter-sparring with the man she all but raised. Turning her head, she narrowed her dark eyes and squinted for better sight. “Which one, man? Point her out so that I may find my soul’s mate.” She almost giggled. “Mean you that ship, there?” Her head nodded left. “Or perhaps that one?”

"I mean..." He huffed, his voice taking on the quarrelsome tone of youth. "The Pearl. Her captain, Jack Sparrow..." He shook his head truly stumped why someone would deny themselves as Morgan Adams did.

Her eyes then focused on Bowen, a slight longing only he could see visible in them. “You know as well as I that Captain Jack Sparrow has no soul, therefore is incapable of loving.” She sighed and looked out over the harbor. “And there will I follow given a few more years and a few more scrapes.” She hated the idea of hardening her heart even more than it was … but it was the only way to survive.

"Only time will tell..." He couldn't resist. There were things that, given just enough time, no one could deny and Bowen had a growing feeling that for Morgan it was Jack Sparrow.

Morgan laughed. “If the seas grant us long life, perhaps time will. Until then, prepare to weigh anchor by midday … if you please.” She smiled sweetly. “And Mr. Bowen … I’m exceeding happy for you. Mr. Turner is a fine and admirable man.”

"As is his captain." Bowen nodded, slipping past her, his smile one of calculated plotting which remained hidden from his captain.

Jack crossed young Bowen's path just as he appeared top side. The boy's countenance bespoke of something new, something quite pleasant. Could it be? "He set off that way, lad." He pointed towards where Will had disappeared down the gangway.

He had been right he mused, right about the light he saw in Bowen's eyes and the life that practically bounded from the youths body. Jack laughed as he strode towards Morgan's cabin. "Take care boy....Take care with his heart." Later he would probably curse himself a sentimental fool but he couldn't help letting the happiness of the two take root inside him.

As if waiting for the perfect moment, Morgan heard the all too familioot oot heels clicking on the sea warped floor of the corridor outside her cabin. Leaning her lean body against the wall she awaited his entrance knowing it would be one of ostentation and pomposity.

As the door opened, she didn’t give him a second to overwhelm. “Speak of Satan and he invites himself to tea, no?” Pushing herself from the wall, Morgan sauntered toward her dark pirate with a salacious smile, trying all the while to keep her mind and body in calm control. Her eyes danced as they locked onto his, her stance tall and graceful, unregretful of her unusual height. “All right, Sparrow … before we leave … off with them.”

Jack's brows rose as if they were about to take flight altogether. "Madame?"

Her own brows mimicked his, the faintest smile lighting her lips. “Drop the trousers. I want to memorize the map.” And have one more view of what drove her insane.

"Ahhhhhh..." A grin of pure devilment creased his lips. "If I'm to lower my trousers then you shall have to do the same, map or not."

Shaking her head slowly, Morgan stepped forward, her finger poking harshly into Sparrow’s slim but powerful chest. “I’m not the one with both our futures coving my ass, Sparrow.” She let her hand move seductively to his neck and turned his head to the side allowing her tongue to trace his ear’s rim. “Off with them now.” She let her gaze find his again and smiled sweetly. “It’s a matter of trust, dear.”

"And if I don't..." He hissed, giving a sultry slur to his words. "Trust you?" His hand struck out jerking her wrist upwards and delivering tongue lashing for tongue lashing.

Allowing time to enjoy the lavishness of the feelings, she reluctantly pushed away, her face a myriad of different emotions. He didn’t trust her, which meant they were nothing more to each other than long, exhaustive rides on the waves of sexual temptations. Attempting to step back from his grasp, she tried to put wonton desire aside and appeal to reason. “Oh, bugger it, Jack … you can’t see back there anyway. Someone has to read the map.” Her eyes narrowed. “And if I find that you’ve allowed some sea port doxy to peruse the treasure map I shall receive great enjoyment by flaying it from your body.” Why did she feel she’d kill anyone she met who had touched him? Silly girl.

"If I were..." He sighed wistfully as his fingers dropped her wrist and found their way to the worn buttons of his trousers, skimming them artfully. "Given to...." Sucking the fleshy line of bottbottom lip between his teeth he continued. "Oh say...Trusting a female..." A giggle ensued. "To trusting you, Morgan … how exactly would I be rewarded?"

Dark orbs watched as the full lip played artfully with the white of his teeth decorated with the gold casings here and there. She felt, rather than saw, the male hand lowering and tempting her by half. “Would you not consider your reward to be knowing how to get to the bloody treasure?” She sighed allowing her ample breasts to lift and fall with tantalizing precision. “Oh, very well. What do you want, Sparrow?” She smiled. “But make it quick, will you? We heave to by midday.” Her hands rested gently on well curved hips as she gave him an almost teasing look.

"I'll have this, milady," he growled, dropping his pretense at playing along his buttons and grasping her shoulders beforessinssing her back against the bulk head. His fingers slipped inside her own tawny colored trousers and played along the line of her sweetly damp apex. "Take them down...take them down for me...for nothing but me," he murmured into her ear.

“And our deal be damned,” she questioned enticingly as her fingers moved to undo the fastens of the butter-soft material with deliberate slowness. She had to know he wanted only her if she were this close to matters of the heart. Her free hand moved to mold his flesh that she loved so heatedly, her fingers squeezing to almost painful pressure. “Who else has seen the map, Jack?” She asked as she opened the trousers, the triangle of fine hair wet and peeking through.
ne bne but you love. I'm careful to keep her from appraising eyes." He answered drawing her hand slowly, carefully away from him. Lowering himself almost submissively to his knees he leaned in. "Truth be upon this black heart, Morgan, none but you." And with his sworn words uttered his tongue slipped between honey slicked lips, flicking across the swollen hooded bud there.

Her legs tightened instinctively as the brazen act caused a sudden cluster of erotic sparks to flow through her very core. With an intrinsic thrust forward, she moaned unashamedly. “Promise me,” she panted as she struggled to keep from actually begging. “This is just for me.” Her words had a double meaning that she hoped he would not notice. Or was she hoping he would? She tried to press her back even closer to the bulkhead to brace herself but it was of no use. She was at his leisure.

The practice of his lips and tongue were quite masterful. He would deny her little in these moments but giving breath to the confession of only having sampled her would not be forth coming. Her e wae was the only to linger on his tongue but to give her that would be to reveal there was more of her that had bore beneath his skin. With a long slow exhaled breath his probing and lapping turning to thrusting into the hallowed ground of her woman's channel.

Morgan believed in the concept of hell, her life had proven its existence over and over again … but the idea of heaven had been so elusive that she had never accepted it as real. She was mistaken. Jack had taken her straight to heaven and his wickedly wonderful tongue was making certain she stayed there until he was ready to give her leave to return to earth. As the familiar convulsion began in the muscles of her femininity, she screamed something aloud … what she said eluded her and that would haunt her later. But for now all she could do was allow him to use her body as he saw fit. He’d pay for it later … when she used his at her whim. That thought caused and even sharper convulsion.

Jack drank in the warm nectar from her. Feeling the tightening around his tongue he gave into a raw groan of pleasure.

His graphic noise was her undoing as the climax began. Long and hard, it was amazingly satisfying leaving her slumped against the bulkhead, her hands on his shoulders for balance. “Well done,” she breathed huskily.

"But of course. Beautiful music is only had with the perfect instrument," he murmured breathlessly as his forehead rested against her lower abdomen.

Her hands twisted almost lovingly in the long dark dreadlock-style hair. With a smile of contentment on her fache she sighed as she gathered strength. “So,” she said softly. “Did you receive ample reward? Are you going to give me what I want now?” Her foot lifted slightly and caressed his bulbous rear.

"As you please, love." He gave a low and rasping laugh as he pushed away from her with one parting lirom rom her pelvic bone to navel. His hand reached the waist band of his trousers and he slithered from the material.

Letting her eyes follow the material, she smiled slightly at the prominence of his engorged member. Sliding her gaze upward, she let her smile grow, but not before spinning her finger in the air in silent demand for him to turn around and show her the masterpiece.

He did as he was bid, twirling around with much embellishment. As soon as his back was turned to her his hand wrapped his calloused fingers around his thick throbbing member, stroking slowly from base to head.

The sight had its usual effect on Morgan’s ability to reason, but somehow amid the warm liquid seeping from her womanhood and the fiery shock that ran through her limbs and abdomen, she kept her mind on the prize. Her finger again trailed the elaborate decoration on his hind quarters reveling in the beauty of the artwork. Marveling at the skin’s feel … soft like doe skin. And then she began the slow memorization. Never once letting her hand move from the map, she reached her free hand between his legs and gently manipulated her way to the quickly filling sacs that eluded her. “It’s a very complicated map, Sparrow.”

"Thus you must take all the time you need to dictate it to memory," he hisses as her hand founded him, causing him to squeeze his leaking shaft just a bit harder than he intended.

“Very hard to accomplish with all the wriggling going on.” She shifted positions and let her head fall to his cheek allowing her warm breath to blow into his “W “What are you doing up there, love?” Her tongue delved deeply into the aural cavity before returning to her perusal of his key to their fortune and glory.


"Nothing less than any warm blooded man would." He groaned as his hips began to pump harder into his stroking hand.

A chuckle erupted from her as she felt her body responding even more. “Warm blooded? Bloody hell, Sparrow, at times you’re blood is as cold as the icy bottom of the sea.” Leaning forward, she took a fair nip from the beautiful cheek and lavished her tongue across the line of separation before letting her fingers follow the lines of the map. Her fingernail, shortened and sharpened by hard manual work, practically pierced a particular area. “Here,” she breathed, the excitement dng hng her temporarily insane. “It’s here, Jack.” Her voice was softened … almost musical as her hand trailed his firm ass boldly now. She have the treasure. She’d have it! Her fingernails then dug hard into the skin of his lower back as she felt his pumping rhythm. “Faster,” she urged wanting nothing more to make her ecstasy complete than to see his hard sexual work come to fruition. “Faster.”

Jack was only too happy to grant her the treat she sought, her fingers aiding him. His hips sped as his hand jerked against the hard steel of his cock bring forth the boiling lava of his ejaculation. The thick cream shot from his body and onto his bared stomach, the slick wetness adding to the satisfied moan that purge from his rapidly rising chest.

“Awww, baby,” Morgan breathed in an uncharacteristic moment of pure sensual femininity. She let her index finger mingle with the still warm liquid, brought it to her tongue and sucked greedily on the covered digit. “Do that for me again?”

"But a moment." He gave her a weary smile, his hand still gripping his waning member. "Per chance did you get your fill of the map?"

Her brows knitted in confusion and then she laughed gently as she realized he had misunderstood her request. “No, dearest Sparrow,” she said as she moved her head to cover the tip of her tongue with more of his essence. “I meant thndernderfully erotic moan.” Allowing her tongue to trail her lips, she sighed. “But, I suppose business is business.” She moved to a position where she could see his face fully. “And you, you complete and total bastard, know that I will never get my fill of that bloody map. But, I can tell you that I have it branded into my memory.” She leaned her face a tad closer to his. “Seared and branded.” And then she struggled to keep her expression naught but business.

"Bastard? Bastard you say?" He feigned shock, even after having heard the disparagement of his origins a number of times from her lips. “I am wounded to the core, love. And here I thought I gave you a fine showing … and all you care for is the moan of spent desire." He shook his head quick and clucked the whole while. He left her comments about the map unmentioned, thinking instead to use the admission at a more leveraged time.

Her eyes narrowed a bit and then a hearty laugh emerged. Falling onto the bed, her arms spread out as she let the humor fade slowly. “Darling, you act almost as if words could hurt you.” She let her foot reach out again, her toes inching up his inner thigh to ease along his huge member. “Yet everyone who knows you knows full well that nothing can hurt you.” Her slight smile was seductive without intention … she was now simply a woman in the heat of passion. “That’s what you think of me as well, no?” Her toes found their mark. “An ice princess?” Another none too gentle caress. “Isn’t it ironic? Two cold hearted empty people created such heated passion?”

"Nay. Fault with your words, milady. Fault indeed. A volcano could be no hotter than you are abed or manning the helm. There is no ice in you, only undeniable determination. Be damned to all that mar your path." He found it suddenly within himself to offer up his observations of her, finding it was al tal taste in his mouth not to give her that small measure of him.

Her gaze widened as she sat up, her hand moving gently to his chest and feeling the erratic beating of his heart. “This … this is truly how you see me?” It was astounding how much she wanted to believe him.

"With all that is in me, Morgan, black heart and all," he pronounced with an honesty and venerability he seldom allowed others to see.

“Be damned to all that mar my path?” Her hand moved in slow circular motions as her fingers found his male nipples and fondled them through his linen shirt, his coat having been discarded. “And yet you seem to walk directly in my path with the tenacious boldness of a man unafraid.” She moved her head and gave in to instinct letting her tongue puhe fhe flat but hardened plate into her mouth and sucking long and hard through the material. “Tell me what that signifies?”

"Simply, that I would brave your wrath..." He gave a long drawn out moan at the wet pressure against his chest. And then he realized what he was about to admit and sought to distract her with a warm caress to the long column of her neck.

She let her tongue wriggle playfully as she smiled. “You did it for me, love.” Working her way back up his neck and throshe she moved her mouth again to his ear and nibbled teasingly. “The sound you make in the throes of passion will one day be my undoing.” She pushed away from him only long enough to position him flat, his back against the mattress as she moved to straddle his hips. It was loving more than sensual, yet the flames of desire ripped through her as she looked amorously into his eyes. “Brave my wrath? Please, finish it, Jack.” She moved her hips strategically. “I vow you will not be disappointed if you confide in me.”

For a moment he thought to finish his words but they lodge thick and painful in his throat. "Were I a better man, love, I would.”

Disappointment not only flashed in her eyes, it remained there. Even her smile could not hide it as she leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose. “Were you a better man I would have given up my captaincy and followed you to the end of the world.” She slid off of his body and began the slow process of straightening her clothes. “My men have been instructed that we sail before midday. Are you ready?”

With guilt weighing heavily upon him, he nodded. His body trembled slightly with the passion she had renewed so quickly in him. "I'm always ready to make way, Morgan." Slowly, his charming smile returned to his face, pushing away anything but complete male devilment.

She chuckled as she looked him over thoroughly. “You are always ready, and that is that.” A large sigh escaped her as she buckled her belt containing her pistol, dagger and sword. “Is there ever a time you are not ready for a good bedding?” She stared him down. “And be truthful, if you know how.”

He shrugged and carefree attitude returning. "A good bedding,” he repeated, sure she was to get his meaning.

She rolled her eyes and smiled,y muy much enjoying the lascivious banter. “Yes, dearest. A GOOD bedding. Is there ever a time when you are not ready for one.” Her eyes showed mock innocence. “Ever a time when the little captain can’t command?”

He rolled his own eyes mocking her. "If ever there was a time I can not recall it." He crossed to her and dropped his hands onto her hips. "But if it were to make me more in your eyes I would admit my maleness fragile indeed." He was jesting, teasing her and the lightened mood made it easier to go about their relationship without a deeper entanglement, or so he imagined.

“Oh, Sparrow,” she began as her hands moved, her arms encircling his neck. “We you any more of a man to me, my womanhood would not accommodate you.” She kissed him hard and gave his rear a sound smack. “Let’s find us our treasure.” Her eyes lit with the excitement of the ages. She was sailing with him, albeit not on his ship, and they were in league together. The world was their oyster!

* * * *

Dawg woke with his usual piss and vinegar mood, shoving hard at the shoulder of the woman that lay sprawled across his chest. "Wake yourself, wench!" He barked loud enough to bring down the rafters.

Fontaine responded with a start and tried desperately to eliminate the sleep from her consciousness. Sitting up immediately at the sound of his orders, her aching body screamed being sore from the abuse of the night before. “Yes, si...Dawg,” she said obediently. Used to being used and dismissed, she stood, comfortable ir nar nakedness and began the familiar task of dressing quietly, anxious to please and do nothing to worsen his obviously dour disposition.

Crossing his strong arms behind his head he watched her dress, watched her heavy breasts raise and lower with each breath. "Food," was the one word that came growled from his lips.

She instantly stopped dressing having only stepped into her petticoats and overskirt. Still bare to the waist, she moved quickly to the nearby table beside the window and sliced some bread and cheese that had been left from the evening before. Moving to his side, she sat on the edge of the bed with a tus sus smile. With deft fingers she lifted a piece of the bread and covered it with cheese taking it slowly to his mouth in offering.

A pleased smile touched his lips as they parted and drew in the simple offering. This was what he expected from his women, from this woman. Reaching up, he tweaked her nipple. "Drink is what I desire now. Fresh milk if it were to be had but I see no babe about." Again he pinched her nipple and leered, rising to meld his lips to hers.

Falling into the kiss she gave her most ferocious. Her tongue dueled to compete with his knowing there was no chance in torment for hers to win this battle. As their mouths parted slightly for air, her hands moved to lift her breasts upward. “If I thought it would please you I’d make a pact with Satan himself to supply it for you.”

"You already have," he hastened to reply, the gravely timber of his voice claiming the room. She was his and that was as close to the devil as one could get in the flesh.

Her brows knitted in confusion, her hands stilled onto her ample orbs. “Did I not please you?” She could not bear the thought of disappointing him.

"As much as one can." He pushed her none to gently away and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Dress yourself, whore."

Now the disappointment was hers as she realized there would be no morning dalliance. But, again, she instantly continued pulling her clothing onto her body expecting nothing more than a few coins and heated loins when she reminisced of their evening together, she and the infamous Dawg Brown.

As he finished strapping his pistol to his waist he moved around the bed and instantly grabbed the woman by the nape of neck. "Still wish to please me?"

She winced slightly at the harshness of his grasp, her eyes filled with intensity and emotion. “I wish to please you.” And she did. His sexual appetite had been varied enough to make her forget that she had done everything imaginable. He had made the unimaginable reality. “I’ll do anything you ask.”

"Find Morgan and learn why she has put to port." He dipped his mouth, biting roughly at her shoulder.

She shivered at the pain and the waves of yearning it stirred inside her. “I know where she is as we speak,” she breathed. “I … I was sent by her … to find what …” She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the heat of his body against her back. “I was to find out … what became of your remaining men.” She awaited the punishment she knew she would receive as he found her to be a spy for Morgan.

"You thought to make a fool of me!" he bellowed, raising his free hand to apply it with much malice to her fetching face. "Cunny!"

Her head snapped to the side with the severity of the blow, her hand flying to the throbbing area. “No!” she began keeping her tears at bay, having had a plethora of practice in that area. “I mean, yes, at first.” She lifted her head, the red blotch indive ove of the bruising that would follow. “But now … after we …now she will learn nothing from me.”

He drew his hand back to deliver another insult but suddenly dropped it, his eyes narrowed in thought. "No. She will learn exactly what I wish her to. Make her believe you are loyal to her but it is I who you gather comings and goings for."

Straightening from the slight cringe she felt at the sight of his raised hand, she nodded, eyes still slightly confused. “I will do as you say.” She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue as she again touched the still throbbing cheekbone. “You have only to tell me what you wish to know and I will do my best to lean it.” Damn, how could this man excite her so even through the pain?

"Find why she has put to port," he repeated with a sneer. “And find when she will make way. Name those of her crew if it is possible and report it all to me."

She nodded again almost shyly. “Consider it done. You can rest assured that I will not fail you.” She had to force herself not to back away from his maleficent presence and race out of the door. Instead, she looked into his eyes silently offering her soul to this piratical Lucifer. Anything that would make him want her.