His lip curled up as he pressed a kiss to my thigh.
“Yes, Captain?” he said.
I rolled my eyes. I was done with that title. I only ever used it to get him back. I didn’t want the responsibility. Too many decisions with far too many consequences followed that title.
“I’m retired, remember?” I said.
His laugh was deep and all mine to keep.
Without warning, he lifted my leg and placed it over his shoulder, laying me out before him without anything between us. I ran my hands through his hair, tangling them with a slight pull lest he think I suddenly developed a knack for patience.
My husband, my captain, on his knees for me, dipped his mouth between my legs, and my entire body quivered with the weight of his lips on me.
He pulled my leg tighter around him as if worried I would pull away, which was truly a ludicrous notion. In fact, I dug my hands into his hair and held him as he ran his tongue over the most sensitive part of me. I didn’t want to be teased. The balance between life and death felt too close this morning, and so all I wanted to do was come on his lips and prove to myself just how alive we were.
He was relentless in his pace. Consuming me and making no apologies for his hunger. My chest rose and fell with the pressure of his lips and tongue, and it was quickly becoming too much.
“Bash,” I begged.
I begged him to spare me, to end me, to devour me. He was always good about knowing what I needed, though, and he didn’t give in to the frantic plea of his name. Instead, he licked me long and hard, and I fell into him, my body falling over with only his determination to keep me alive.
He held me while I shook, and that lightning broke me apart inside and out. The intensity of it, fast and relentless, just like him.
When I once more learned to breathe again, Bash stood and spun me back around, where pink skies were giving way to the curse of blue.
“More,” I ordered, like we could outrun the day if we only lost ourselves in each other.
Wrapping his arm around my waist, he carried me to that window like he knew what I feared. He probably did. There was very little I could hide from him.
“Bend over, Rose,” he ordered, and fuck if I didn’t love it when he ordered me around like this.
I did as he said, bracing my hands on the windowsill and forcing myself to watch the breaking dawn.
Behind me, Bash curled his hand around my hair, pulling just enough that if I moved even slightly, I would feel pain. Anothercommand. I recognized the need in him for control, and I was happy to give him all of that and more. So even though I wanted to beg him to push into me, I didn’t.
I let him decide, with only the slight arch of my back giving away my impatience. I wanted him to fill me, to be the only thing I needed.
His hook ran along the back of my spine, and even though it made me shiver with need, I unarched it, knowing he didn’t appreciate even the hint of command.
I was rewarded with him pressing into me, my body warm and ready for him. Always. I was always ready for this man who showed me how good I could feel for the first time in a dingy tavern.
He slid into me slowly and methodically, none of the chaos I wanted as blue conquered pink outside.
A terrible fear gripped my heart for just a moment before he made me forget. Maybe it was remembering after all. All I knew was that as he held my hair and my waist in place, I was remade by the slam of his hips into mine. He was long and hard, hitting everywhere at once without the calm pace he often used. The way he slid in and out of me with reverence–no, this was different.
This was a reminder that we were both alive and that this day would not claim us. I held still, but the pressure building, somewhere between painful and euphoric, forced my lips open, and when I praised his name, he increased his pace. Sweat coated our bodies, but soon the salt of the sea would wash it out, and so we slid together. Beautiful and tragic until the waves crashed over me, and it was all I could do not to collapse right there and then.
Bash bit out his pleasure as he spilled into me, and even after we stopped moving together, we stayed like that, watching the last of the pink be claimed by daylight. When he finally slid outof me, I stood and pressed my sweat-slick body into his. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed a kiss to my shoulder.
“Whatever comes,” he said.
“We face it together.” I ended.
And it was as real as any vow made on any sea.
Just as blue skies once claimed pink, now orange skies overtook the once blue. I stood on deck with the rest of the crew of the Wraith, watching as we could no longer outrun time.
Dusk unfurled itself across the horizon like a bruised ribbon—violet at the edges, gold sinking low, and a soft wash of pink that made the sea look almost gentle. Almost. The truth was, nothing about this place was gentle, not tonight and not for me.
