Aboard the Lady May Ch. 01

When he finally cupped his palm over her naked cunt, they both sighed in relief. Felix parted her quickly, dragged his middle finger through her sodden slit, then continued up under her clit's protective hood to lave the firm nub with her juices. He was through teasing her. And himself. He wanted her screaming her pleasure into his mouth. He wanted to watch her thighs quiver while his thumb scrubbed her clit and her inner muscles clamped tight on his invading fingers. And he wanted it now.

Felix aligned three fingers along her body's entrance and began to rub briskly, creating slick friction softened by the copious liquid that seeped from between her cunt's puffy lips. She arched, gasping, then let out a soft sob when his thumb pushed back her hood and began to knead her clit in rhythm with his surging fingers. He pushed his thumb and fingers apart, then retracted them back, forcing her sodden folds together then apart, then together again, over and over, all the while mashing them flat against her prominent pelvic bone.

With his other hand, he pulled alternately on her nipples, less gently than before, until they stood out long and hard as wooden toggles. Each tug of his fingers made her back bow, causing her entire body to move in rhythm against his—her chest rising and falling, drawn by his grip on her nipples, and her hips bucking wildly, seeking to simultaneously evade and to gain closer contact with the hand that labored furiously over her cunt. Felix could feel her body growing tighter and tighter, her muscles hardening and beginning to shake as he hurled her mercilessly toward climax.

He changed the angle of his thumb slightly so the hard-callused ridge at the tip scraped her clit. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound that emerged was tiny and high, nearly inaudible over the sounds of the shifting ship and the wet sluice of his fingers through her dripping folds. When she tried to turn her face away, to bury it against his chest. Felix released the nipple he was flicking and tangled his hand in the short stands of her hair.

"No, Jamie," he said. "Let me watch your face. Let me see how beautiful you are."

He continued to strum her clit as he began to work his long middle finger up inside her body. Drenched as she was, it still wasn't easy, and he could feel the small tongues of muscle that fought his invasion.

"Easy, girl," he ground out through his teeth, twisting his finger until it was seated in her up to the second knuckle. "That's it. Relax, Jamie. Good girl. Don't fight me, now."

Thrusting his finger in teasing pulses, Felix patiently worked at her while his thumb pressed her clit and stirred in tight, rapid circles. Gradually, her body softened, and he was able to sink his finger deep by exerting hardly any pressure. She had no hymen—the result, he suspected, of years spent climbing the rigging and straddling masts—but she was still small and impossibly tight. He slowly slid his finger out, then thrust it deep again, nearly wincing at the way her hot walls viced around his plunging digit. She moaned, biting her lip, and began rocking her hips in temp with the quick rhythm he commenced.

"Go ahead and shout if you want, girl." Felix spoke into her upturned face, still held immobile by his hand in her hair. "No one'll hear. And if they do, they'll just think I'm breaking you in. A little yelling's to be expected."

Still biting her lip, her head began to thrash from side to side. She was close. Felix could tell. Stopping to penetrate her had postponed her imminent climax, but she was back on the edge, and Felix knew the sensations were only intensified by the extra time he had taken as well as by the fact that he was now able to stimulate her from both inside and out. He stabbed his finger deep a dozen times then, without warning, withdrew it completely. After a split second in which she gripped his wrist and let out a piercing cry, Felix crossed his middle over his index finger and thrust both full-length back inside her.

The additional thickness paired with the ridged bumps of his crossed knuckles drove Jamie past her breaking point. Still clinging to his wrist, her hips surged upwards, her eyes rolled back in her head, and her mouth opened so wide Felix could see the hole of her missing top molar. He was prepared to seal her lips with his own if her shrieks grew too loud but was pleasurably surprised when no sound at all broke free and he was not forced to obstruct his view of her face. Watching the muscles in her throat visibly constrict, Felix doubted she was able to breathe, much less scream. And as she flailed against him, he released her hair to wrap his arm around her, tight across her shoulders. Immediately, her hand that was not gripping his wrist flew up to twine with his free hand, both of which he pressed against his own galloping heart.

Between her rigid, widespread thighs, he was relentless, stroking Jamie through her convulsions of ecstasy until she drew a deep shuddering breath and dry sobs began to wrack her small frame. Peeking over his arm, Felix watched her scarred breasts heave with each choking breath and was tempted to continue his caresses, to prolong her climax for as long as possible. He doubted, however, that Jamie's frail body—weakened by prolonged hunger and abuse—was capable of withstanding another onslaught of the torturous pleasure. Regretfully, knowing she was so sensitized from the hours-long buildup that with the slightest effort he could send her hurtling over the edge again, Felix gently withdrew his thumb from her clit and his twined fingers from inside her still-spasming sheath. She cried out softly as his fingers slipped free, then whimpered when he cupped his big warm hand over her tender cunt and pressed firmly inward, not seeking to stimulate her anymore but letting her know that he was still there—that he hadn't abandoned her in this unknown place where her mind wouldn't function and her body behaved like a volatile stranger.

While successive tremors still wracked her body, Jamie curled tight and snuggled against Felix. She closed her thighs, trapping his hand between them, and pressed her face to his damp, shirt-covered chest. Each small movement was painful for Felix, who was struggling to ignore his unassuaged desire, but he hugged her as tight as he dared and pressed his mouth to her sweat-slicked brow. Her heartbeat gradually slowed as her breathing evened, and Felix realized that the wetness seeping through his shirt was more than could be attributed to just perspiration. Silently and without moving a muscle, she was crying.

"Are you alright, girl?" Felix asked, his voice gruff with concern. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

She shook her head without looking up from his chest, and Felix released the tense breath he was holding. His arm tightened around her slightly as he dragged his mouth down her salty forehead to kiss the translucent skin at her temple.

"What's the matter, then?" he asked.

She was silent for a moment then turned her head to the side so she could speak.

"I'm sorry," she said, and Felix heard the small wet sound when she paused to lick her lips. "I don't mean to weep. It's just—this is the first time since my father died that I've felt safe." Felix was shocked by her admission, rendered speechless, and when he said nothing, she quickly added, "I'm sorry. You must think I'm a terrible ninny. Crying all over you—"

"No, girl," Felix interrupted, finally finding his voice, surprised by how difficult it was to force words through his constricted throat. "Don't apologize for that. I was just—surprised. A bit flattered. You've no real reason to trust me."

"You didn't hurt me," she whispered.

Felix couldn't stop the fist that held her hand to his heart from clenching tight. She winced, and he immediately lessened his grip, murmuring an apology. She nodded and turned her forehead back to rest against his chest, but Felix couldn't relax as easily as she seemed to. He was angry—furious that her standards were so low, that her previous encounters with men had trained her to expect pain, and that she could think of nothing more to ask of him than that he not hurt her. Not wanting to upset her, he forced his breathing to remain slow and even, but his heart, he knew, was pounding loud against her palm. He could only hope that the strength of his rage wasn't thundering perceptively through his veins. The last thing he wanted now was to frighten the girl.

In order to calm himself, Felix forced himself to think of what had just passed between them—the exquisite sensitivity of her flesh, the uninhibited beauty of her response, the evidence that she had not been irrevocably damaged by all she'd survived in the past. Pressing another kiss to her temple, he smiled slightly when she sighed and settled more closely against him. Then he promptly grimaced. He had no idea how he could possibly keep her safe. He could not keep her to himself; the other crewmen would never allow it. And if anything happened to expose her secret, she would be passed around belowdecks and used until she was too broken to interest even the most depraved among them. The best she could hope for was survival, and Felix was abruptly certain that the embers of humor and affection that she'd somehow kept kindling during the past six years would be doused forever.

He'd be damned if he would allow that to happen.

Felix kissed her temple once more and tightened his arms around her, then shifted to settle his shoulders more comfortably against the planked wall.

"We'll manage, Jamie," he whispered into her hair, still damp with sweat, "somehow. I promise we will."

But she said nothing, and the sound of her deep, steady breathing filled the hold like a kitten's contented purr. Moving carefully, Felix groped for her discarded shirt, then draped it gently over her side that wasn't pressed to his body. He didn't want her to become chilled while she slept.