I thought each thrust might split me apart, the next one deeper than the last. His hand stroked me in time with the movement of his hips. My arms trembled, and I couldn’t hold myself up that way anymore. With a groan, I lowered my upper half so I could rest my arms on the seat of the chair, my forehead between them, as if I were bowing to some pagan god, which pushed my ass higher in the air. Ambrose grunted, pausing in his thrusts to roll his hips against me, and that felt so good. I moaned softly, and he did it again. “Your ass is to die for, Jamie,” he groaned. The words radiated heat through my body, and I flushed with pleasure. And then he was back to thrusting, his movements a little easier now, bent at the angle I was. My shirt flopped back and forth like canvas in a storm, and I pressed my cheek into the soft, red velvet beneath me.
Ambrose shifted his angle slightly, and I suddenly saw stars in front of my vision as he thrust against something deep inside of me that made my whole body feel like it was as sensitive as the head of my cock. I cried out, my hips jerking back toward him, and he chuckled, his hips moving faster and finding that same spot with each successive thrust. This was how I wanted it to be, how I imagined it would be. No more pain, just pleasure and heat. My skin prickled as sweat broke out on my back and chest, my fingers digging into the velvet cushion as I let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a scream, my hips pushing back to meet his with every stroke.
His hand moved over my cock as he thrust, harder now. Somewhere in my mind I registered pain, but it was overwhelmed by the pleasure that rode through me, making my toes curl against the wood beneath our feet. I buried my mouth in the velvet cushion to muffle the sounds that tore from my lungs. Raw, animalistic sounds, hungry with need, full of heat and pleasure and the feeling of each stroke in tandem with the other. And then my pleasure peaked, my hips jerking as my passion released, some of it on the floor, some of it on the chair, and I almost collapsed. Ambrose’s arm around my waist held me up as he continued to thrust, each one so overwhelming the world might have turned upside down and I would not know it. His hips pounded against mine, the slap of his pelvis hitting my ass and thighs from behind the only sound I could hear as my ears still buzzed with pleasure, my body shaking.
His own desire washed over him, and he gave a gusty shout, his hips jerking against mine and pressing so deep and hard inside of me that I thought he might fall into me entirely like a spirit. He slumped over my back, his warm, heavy weight pinning me to the chair seat as I struggled to breathe and focus on the world again. His breath tickled the hair on the back of my neck as he panted, then he pushed himself up, our bodies sticking slightly to each other with sweat.
He slowly pulled out of me, and I moaned loudly as his cock left my stretched and pulsing ass. My knees buckled, and I fell lightly to the floor in front of the chair, my heart racing, my shirt sticking to me in odd places and twisted out of shape. I rested my cheek against the chair seat, feeling like I might sleep for a week, or possibly swim the rest of the way to the island. My body trembled from the after-effects of my pleasure.
I was vaguely aware of Ambrose crossing to a wash basin and cleaning himself up before coming over to me with a wet cloth, which I took with a shaky hand. I did my best to wipe the sweat from my skin, and then dipped the cloth in between my legs. My hole pulsed as the coolness moved over it, making me wince a bit. I was going to be feeling that for a while. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Ambrose took the cloth when I was done with it, then reached down and scooped me up in his arms like he had when he carried me to the chair, this time taking me to his bed in the corner, the elegant, four-poster thing with velvet curtains. He laid me down on the soft mattress and pulled a blanket over me. It was warm and heavy, stuffed with goose feathers, and I vaguely acknowledged in my sleepy state that I was glad Ambrose was a man who liked luxurious things. Then he was slipping into the bed next to me, even warmer than the blanket, and his arm went around me to hold me close. I nestled back into his embrace, and, within moments, I was asleep.
Chapter Eight
Iawokethenextmorning in Ambrose’s arms, overly warm and sticky. The scent of his oil lingered on my skin, his scruff brushing over my shoulder where he lay next to me. He looked peaceful and content, and I stroked a few strands of his dark hair off his forehead. My heart fluttered under my ribs thinking of the night before, with our bodies entwined, fitting together so perfectly. I had not imagined that my first time with a man would be with someone as gorgeous and experienced as Ambrose, but now I could imagine no one else.
Ambrose blinked his eyes open, and he gave me a lazy smile. “Good morning.”
I beamed back, leaning in to kiss him, and he tugged me close, his fingers tangling into my dark blond hair. I felt my prick give a jump, and while I was eager for a repeat of the previous night, both of us had duties to attend to on the ship, and I reluctantly pulled back. My body protested all movement when I sat up. The light was barely peeking through the windows of the captain’s quarters, so I had at least not overslept my kitchen chores.
Ambrose watched me, a hint of that rakish smile on his face. I found myself suddenly unsure of what to do or say. It seemed rather presumptuous of me to assume that this would happen again, and I did not know what an appropriate topic of conversation might be at this moment. I pulled free from Ambrose and the blankets, getting to my feet, a bit unsteady, though whether from discomfort or the ship rolling, I could not be completely sure. I dressed carefully, feeling Ambrose watch me the whole time. Then he gave a lazy stretch, like an oversized cat. “Will you join me for dinner again tonight?” he asked suddenly, and I felt warmth flow over me like a bucket of hot water.
“I… I can,” I said softly, meeting his eyes.
My stomach gave a sudden rather loud growl of protest, and he laughed. “I promise we will actually eat this time.”
I beamed at him. Dinner with Captain Ambrose, just the two of us. “I would like that,” I said.
“As would I,” Ambrose replied before giving another stretch and sliding out of the bed.
I made myself as presentable as I could before giving Bosun a pat on the head and slipping out of the cabin. I made my way across the deck, the cool morning air freshening my skin until I reached the stairs to the galley.
Silas was already at work, boiling oats and water to make burgoo, and I moved to join him. It seemed like there was a frown on his gnarled face. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he was silent, and I was not about to offer him information he did not ask for or that was not his business to know. We worked in silence for a long time before he broke it with a soft grunt. “Is’ no’ my place to tell yeh what yeh can and canno’ do, Jamie, bu’ I care for yeh, lad, and I don’ want to see yeh get hurt. Be careful.”
Resentment roiled in my gut at his words, like he knew anything about Ambrose. “I will,” I said, my words as bitter as tea leaves.
There was silence between us again for a long while before Silas spoke up again. “Jamie, ‘n I ask yeh a question?”
I forced aside any lingering feelings of irritation and nodded.
Silas gazed back at me for a long moment before saying, “I’m jes a cook, makes no diff’rence tah me nohow, but I hear we’s going after treasure.”
This caused me to jump a little. I figured Ambrose knew, but beyond him, the squire, and Mister Kearns, I had thought that no one else was aware of the reason for our voyage. “Where did you hear that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light, though I could hear the evasiveness in my own tone.
Silas’s deep eyes stared at me, seeing something I was not sure of, and I shifted uncomfortably under the look. “It ain’ my business, bu’ if it’s meant tah be a secret, I thought yeh’d wan’ tah know that by now the secret’s been told to the parrot, as it were.”
The thought that every single crew member knew that we were sailing with a treasure map in our possession sent a jolt of fear into my stomach. The squire and Mister Kearns had impressed upon me the need for secrecy until such time as we reached the island and the true purpose of our venture was known. For while the hands aboard had been selected by Ambrose, they were still all strangers to us, and the betrayal of one could quickly become a mutiny if the situation became too heated. It didn’t really matter where the information had come from, for there was no returning the rum to the bottle now that it had been spilled.
Silas’s eyes were still upon me, and he said, with dead solemnity, “Where there’s gold, there’s also blood, Jamie. I jes wan’ you tah be aware, lad.”
Those words ran cold in my veins, for I had heard them before from George Conley. I swallowed, the motion getting stuck in my throat. “I’ll be careful,” I said softly.
Silas looked like he wanted to say something more, but he just shook his head and swiped some sweat from his brow. He returned to his work, and I returned to mine with a sobering dread that would not leave me.
My trepidation at the crew knowing the purpose of our mission stayed with me every day after that; I thought I could see greed on the face of every man who passed me. But Ambrose seemed to have ample control over the crew, despite many of them being older than he. He carried himself with a poise and authority that the men respected, even if they did often chuckle about his “fine and fancy” airs.
Our ranks numbered twenty, including every soul aboard, save for Bosun and any of the rodents that had found their way into our stores. The crew was a ragtag lot, ranging in age from only a few years older than me to wizened old Mister Thomas, who claimed to only be seventy-one but looked like he might have an extra hundred years on that from so much drink.
