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She’s almost died. Many times.
The thought tries to close my throat, but I can’t let myself demand explanations. What’s the point? She’s a pirate, and piracy is a dangerous life.
Her body is much paler than her face and arms and chest. Seeing her like this feels like a secret just between us. I can’t afford to think like that, not when she’s so blatantly planning to dump me off her ship at the first opportunity. But I’m only human, and I’ve been in love with Maura for most of my life. If I can only have her right now, like this, then I’ll take what I can get.
I slide down her body as well as I can in the relatively cramped space and press a kiss to her lower stomach. I’ve had lovers that I teased for hours, seeing just how far I could push them, but this is Maura. If I don’t get my mouth on her properly, I might expire on the spot.
The first taste of her goes straight to my head. She gives a surprisingly sweet whimper as I lick her pussy, and I suddenly need to do whatever it takes to inspire that sound again.
To make her cry out my name.
In the ten years since those first fumbling attempts at lovemaking, I’ve learned plenty. I know how to make my lovers shake and squirm and orgasm so hard, it alters their worldviews. I’ve felt selfish pride at the way many of them linger at the edges of my presence, desperate for another experience in my bed.
All that poise and cunning abandon me at my second taste. Maura’s pussy goes to my head faster than fine wine. I press her thighs wide and cover her with my mouth. During those months we shared before my father drove her out, I learned this woman’s body as well as my own.
She’s different now. We both are.
I mean to relearn it, even if this is only happening a single time.
Maura digs her hands into my hair and lifts her hips. “Gods, Juliette. That feels good.”
I have to fight to lift my head, to break the contact of my tongue against her clit. “Say it again.” I hardly sound like myself. That’s fine. I don’t feel much like myself right now, either. “Say my name again.”
Her laugh is hoarse with pleasure. “Getting possessive?”
With her? Always. I know better than to admit as much, though. Instead I ease a finger into her pussy. She gasps and arches her back, putting her small breasts on display. It’s not fair how beautiful she is, how much I want her.
Mine.
Except she’s not.
My throat tries to close, but I push the thought away just like I’ve pushed away thoughts of Maura over the years. Court is rife with intrigue, and it was vital everyone assumed I forgot about my youthful indiscretion. If they thought I was still pining after the pirate my father wanted in the noose, they would have used the information to pry right into the heart of me. The only time I allowed myself to think of Maura was when I was truly alone.
I stroke her clit with my tongue and work another finger into her. I might have forgotten so much, but I haven’t forgotten this. I twist my wrist and find that spot that makes her…
“Holy fuck, Juliette.”
Yes. That.
Her grip tightens in my hair, urging my face harder against her pussy. I nearly purr in bliss. This. This is how it’s supposed to be: her riding my mouth and fingers to orgasm, her ragged breathing and little moans filling the cabin.
Now that we’re like this, I can almost believe that nothing’s changed. That this can last until the end of time. What place does reality have in the slickness of Maura’s pussy on my tongue and her fingers digging into my hair?
I could do this forever. I want to do this forever.
“Juliette!” She arches her back, and her thighs clamp around my head. “Don’t stop! Oh my gods, please don’t stop.”
She’s not thinking about all the reasons we can’t be together right now. She’s only thinking about me. If I don’t stop, this will be over too soon, and then Maura will get back to telling me all the reasons this will never work. Instead of keeping my pace steady in a way I know will get her over the edge, I slow. I lick around her clit, depriving her of the touch she needs to finish. I stop the rhythmic motions of my fingers inside her, giving her the penetration but not the friction.
In response, Maura whimpers. It’s such a sweet sound, nothing like the woman I knew then or have interacted with now. And yet I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to tease her and make her beg. I want to keep going until she comes apart around me, until all she thinks about is me.
