The Devil's Luck Ch. 03

"You see?" Edmund said to the side of her face, "This isn't so horrific, now is it? We've even left your clothes intact today. That's already an improvement upon yesterday, is it not?" There was no response as she stared straight ahead attempting to ignore him.

He thought about what it was he wanted out of this encounter with the lovely but prim Widow Collingwood and an idea came to him as to how he might achieve it. Threading the foot of his free leg beneath her crossed ankles, he goaded her again, "You'd rather not look at me, is that it?"

"There is some sense in you yet, I see. Yes, you're correct. I'd rather not have to look upon the man who treats me so." She didn't know that her own words were about to put her in a position she would likely come to appreciate even less than her current one.

"Then by all means," he said, "Let us have you face away from such a disagreeable sight." Shifting his legs below her and using the leverage he already had with her on his left thigh, he hoisted the woman in his lap by the waist to reposition her so she sat squarely atop both his legs with her back to him.

Cognizant of her new position astride his legs, she tried immediately to stand and be away from him; but he brought both his arms around her waist entirely, pinning her to him where she sat. Her hands pushed at his arms and her feet at the deck as she strained to be free, her struggles causing her bottom to wriggle most pleasantly against him.

Edmund squeezed his circling arms tighter to get her attention and spoke in patient tones, "Settle down, Mrs Collingwood. You aren't going anywhere and you'll only exhaust yourself."

To his surprise, she stilled at his words, her form slumping a bit in defeat. He wanted to take advantage of this moment where she wasn't fighting him so he instructed her further, "Lean back against me, please - I don't wish to speak to the back of your head."

Permitting herself a small sigh of resignation, she did as he bade and left off her forward straining against his grip to settle her back against his chest. Laying her head stiffly on his shoulder, she continued to look stubbornly away from him. Here was a measure of progress, he thought, and allowed her for the time to continue avoiding eye contact.

With her body now draped over his from shoulders to hip, Edmund knew there would only be so long that he could rein himself in to conversation alone. He forged ahead, not wanting to waste time.

"It strikes me, Mrs Collingwood, that as I pointed out on our way back to my cabin, you may not have been entirely upset by the fine work our Mr Till performed last night. In fact even my own contributions to the task seemed to be received as not altogether unpleasant."

She harrumphed at him, moving her arms back to their familiar crossed position. "You're quite mistaken, Captain, if you took my reactions for anything other than —"

"Please, my dear, there's no need to demur. I've handled plenty of women in my time. I know the sounds of enjoyment when I hear them. And yet some of the sport we three had seemed, well, untried on your part. Did the late Mr Collingwood keep you deprived of such pleasures?" Now he was legitimately curious and not simply needling her. She shifted in his lap and he bit the inside of his lower lip to still himself against the sensation of her backside against him. He wanted answers out of her before he indulged in the physical.

"A respectable lady doesn't speak of such things, Captain Blackburn," she evaded his questions as her tone began to sharpen once more.

"And who is respectable?" he teased, "You? Sitting here, merry as you please, on the lap of a notorious pirate, and without a chaperone?" He watched her face colour again at his barbs and she turned to look at him now, her careful avoidance of his eyes forgotten in her irritation.

"You know bloody well I wouldn't be sitting here if it weren't for —"

Edmund silenced her with the sudden press of his lips against hers, the taste of her from the day before demanding to be savoured again with her mouth so close to his. Her eyes flew wide and she made some startled sounds of protest, but her face was too close, cradled against his shoulder as it was, for her to pull away.

It was a matter of quick seconds, but time seemed to stretch out with his anxiety as Edmund waited for the response he sought. Just when he thought he might have to resort to other measures, though, his desire was fulfiled and she softened against him. With his arms still clutching her about the waist, he nudged her lips apart long enough to find her tongue with his. The quiet moan of release that spilled from her mouth into his when he did this all but lit him ablaze.

He kissed her with a slow luxury the likes of which he'd never bothered to take with his usual ladies of the evening, but it was when she began to respond in kind to the strokes of his tongue that he had to leave off before he went mad. Instead he moved his eager mouth to her throat and shoulder, working his way along the skin and away from the soft lips that called him.

"No..." she breathed.

Edmund would not leave off his attentions at her neck, but he again became exasperated with her reluctance. "No, Mrs Collingwood? Your lips tell me otherwise."

"No," the now panting widow clarified, her voice breathy, "Mr Collingwood did not ever show me any such interest as all this."

"Did he not?" Edmund relaxed when he saw that her 'no' was an answer to his earlier question instead of a protest. He continued his tasting of her flesh as he moved his hands to her hips and drew her more firmly against him.

"He wasn't even...interested in...our marriage bed...at all," she explained between breaths and delicate gasps at his kisses.

This particular revelation jarred Edmund as its import sunk down past the lust that gripped him. If what she'd just confessed were true, and today and last night were the first times a man had bothered to touch her so... His blood boiled at the thought and he ground himself against her, drawing her sharp inhalation in response.

He moved his right hand away from her waist and down her thigh, where he reached between the back of her leg and his and began to gather the material of her gown. He would not cut her out of the last dress he had on board today, but he would surely need to get at her secrets before very much longer.

The woman in his lap didn't seem to notice that his free hand was busy pulling aside the fabric barriers between them, so consumed was she by his burning mouth and the now insistent press of his erection against her bottom. When he had the offending layers of cloth shifted completely out of the way, however, and her bare skin came in contact with his breeches, and their rigid contents, she sobered up immediately.

She sat bolt upright on him trying once again unsuccessfully to push herself away. "Captain!" she sputtered, "We can't! Oh please! I should never have let you —"

"Shh, come now, my dear," he shushed her, "we both know we're well beyond all that." The hand that had gathered her dress out of the way was now trying to fumble his aching need out of his breeches before she was able to squirm off his lap entirely. This end achieved, when the blunt head of his shaft brushed for the first time against the damp folds at her centre, his captive beauty went stock still, as though she could hide from it by not moving.

Edmund was so close to being inside her now. He clenched his jaw and tightened his body against the urge to simply shove himself in. Sliding the tip along her wetness, he prolonged the taking of his pleasure a moment longer.

"Tell me you don't want this," he growled at her, pressing at her entrance. The fabric of her gown puddled over his lap, obscuring his view, but he had plenty enough experience to tell him where he needed to push.

"I don't! I don't want this!" she denied him now in earnest.

The sound of her impotent pleas nudged him past his breaking point and with a last well-aimed push, he was inside the lovely Hannah Collingwood.

"Captain!" she cried again in protest, "I said I didn't want to!" In her anxiety at his invasion she involuntarily clenched around him, making his eyes roll back in his head. By God, she was tight.

"I must not have heard you," he ground out his obvious lie as he worked himself fully up into the furnace of her core. She was so achingly warm and close against him. He would have to tread carefully, he thought, if he were to last any longer than a moment.

Hands at her hips, he made his way slowly in and out of her at a tortuous pace. He soon became glad that he chose this more deliberate path, because the widow began to relax into his controlled thrusts and her deep rhythmic breaths were turning into the whining sounds of a woman straining toward pleasure. His libido soared at the thought that he was coaxing these moans out of her, but both of their little bubbles of joy came bursting apart as a loud series of knocks at the door jarred them out of the moment.

She gasped at the startling noise and flexed delightfully around his shaft in her surprise. He had to grip her by the hips to prevent her from hopping off of him.

A loud voice made its claim against the door, "Captain, Mr Till said I'd find you in here. I've an update on our course."

Edmund eyed Mrs Collingwood who had turned, wide-eyed to shake her head at him, a silent plea for him to send the voice outside away. This might be a bit of fun, he thought, and I do love when she turns such a pretty shade of red.

"Enter!" he called to his navigator.

The door swung open to admit William Osbourne, swift-tongued navigator of The Devil's Luck. The mercurial blonde man leaned into the room and his darting eyes quickly took in the flushed female perched on his captain's lap.

"What's your report, Osbourne?"

"Well, Sir, based on my calculations once again this morning..." the man launched into his explanation of how the ship needed to bear, and his estimates for how long it would take for them to arrive at Nassau, weather permitting. He studiously tried to ignore the unusual scene before him as he spoke.

As Edmund tried his best to focus on the information pouring out of Mr Osbourne, he was forced to circle his arms again about the waist of his flustered widow to keep himself firmly sheathed inside her. She stared straight ahead now, perhaps in hopes that if she didn't look at either of the two men, she would not have to admit she was again impaled upon a cock in front of an audience. Or possibly she hoped Osbourne wouldn't figure out that Edmund was nestled fully within her warmth — her skirts did cover the most damning evidence from view.

"Thank you, Mr Osbourne," he acknowledged the man once he finally ran out of words.

The navigator moved then to leave, but appeared on a whim to turn a mischievous face back into the stateroom to drive home the fact that he was clearly wise to his captain's actions beneath the blue-green sea of fabric. "Give her one for me, Captain," he grinned as he began to pull the door shut behind him.

"I'll give her several, Mr Osbourne," he called to the man, "If you'd care to stay and watch."

The blonde man's eyebrows climbed with interest and he stepped back into the room, securing the door again with himself on the inside. He leaned against the wooden panels at his back and folded his arms, intrigued by Edmund's offer of a bit of a show.

"Captain!" Mrs Collingwood pushed against the deck with her feet in a mighty effort to dislodge her body from the shameful situation in which she now found herself. Her strength, however, was no match for the man who held her tight.

He throbbed with the thought of her humiliation in front of yet another crew member, and somewhere within him, a small part of his mind thought it odd that her shame should add so to his gratification. For the moment that niggling idea was banished, though, as he moved once again within her slick heat.

Pumping now into her rigid form, Edmund began to lose himself to the rhythm of flesh against flesh. He felt her thighs tighten over his and saw her hands fly to her mouth to prevent herself, most likely, from crying out.

The pushing, the sliding, the way she stretched to accommodate his length beneath her skirts, was going to bring him past his threshold, and soon. He felt his testicles contract as his body readied for the final burst of delicious release, but the ultimate trigger came when something else happened that he would've thought impossible in that moment.

Around his cock he felt the telltale fluttering of a woman reaching her peak. Hannah Collingwood was putting forth a colossal effort to not make any sound that would give her away, but Edmund knew that hot rippling sensation over his erection very well indeed. The very thought of her reaching her climax wedged itself into the last crack in his facade and he spilled himself into her with a growl, showers of sparks cascading over the backs of his tightly shut eyelids as he rode out the contractions inside her.

He couldn't allow himself to wallow in bliss for more than a second with a member of his crew standing there. He wrested himself to a more normal state with a vigorous shake of his head and dismissed the one-man audience leaning against the door, "That will be all, Mr Osbourne."

"Aye, Sir," the navigator affirmed with a disbelieving grin, unable to say anything more intelligent with regard to what he'd just seen. The man slid out the door, shutting it behind him again, and Edmund and the widow were left in silence.

With a final series of pumps for good measure, he addressed the woman impaled on his lap, "Have you had enough for now, Mrs Collingwood?"

The sound of her choking sobs in response told him that she had indeed had her fill. He released his hold on her hips and she slid to the floor, her face in her hands, unwilling to look at him. There would be little he could do now to bring her back around, he thought regretfully as he fastened his breeches again.

Banging out through the stateroom doors and mounting the stairs in the council room that lead to the upper deck, Edmund called in a carrying voice to his crew, "Where is Ellis George? Someone find me that carpenter, if you please."

After a moment of shouts along the deck to locate the man he sought, the ship's carpenter, Mr George came trotting over to the doorway being filled by the captain.

"You called for me, Sir?"

Ellis George, who must surely be the tidiest man aboard his ship, possessed a skilful hand at shaping wood and, in Edmund's mind, was also the very man he needed to carry out his next set of orders.

"Fetch a bucket of water and the least filthy rag you can find, Mr George. I suspect our Mrs Collingwood is feeling especially...unclean...just now, and I need someone other than myself to stand watch to ensure that she bathes. Gather what you need and be sharp about it; I've business with Hezekiah about the sails and I don't wish to leave her alone for the time being."

"Aye, Captain," George gave a brisk nod and swept off to do as ordered.

He thought for a moment, watching the carpenter head off to fetch the bucket, that again the placing of his own desires first had caused that sobbing mess on the floor in his cabin. She'd been humming along just fine before he chose to lap up her shame in front of Osbourne. He sighed to himself as he was forced to confront once again the one area, that of carnal desire, where he had nearly no control of his impulses. Edmund Blackburn would need to try at least one more time if he wanted to see the Widow Collingwood open herself to the desires he knew she harboured in secret, and he would need to go carefully about it.

* * * *



Hannah barely had time to recover any semblance of composure before yet another member of Captain Blackburn's cursed crew came banging through the doors of the stateroom. He carried a bucket and a bit of cloth, and closed the door deftly behind him with one hand. He was not followed by the captain and she steeled herself at the idea of being left alone with still another strange man.

"Mrs Collingwood?" he asked. She didn't answer him out of spite; she was certain that after her ordeal at the mast the previous day, the entire crew would be more than familiar with who she was.

"Captain has asked me to see to it that you bathe," he went on, brushing past her silence as he stepped toward her to set the bucket on the deck beside her, along with the rag. She could see now that the wooden container was halfway full of water.

Her legs still folded under her as she sat on the floor, Hannah looked in disbelief from the offered water back to the man who'd brought it. Surely Blackburn didn't expect her to shame herself in front of the entire crew, one by one.

"Thank you for your kindness, Good Sir," she twisted the politeness of her words into something else, "but I'm sure I can take care of such matters in private."

"Name's Ellis George, Madam, ship's carpenter. And I'm afraid the captain insists I stay to ensure you've made a proper go of it." He leaned against the door with these revelations, effectively barring her escape. Although where she would go if she darted past him was entirely beyond her. Who would protect her? Brigit, wherever she was at this point?

Hannah looked down again at the items he'd brought and, feeling resigned and in all honesty quite soiled after the events of the last day, took up the rag and began to hastily make her ablutions. The sooner she was done the sooner she might be rid of this loitering carpenter.

Dipping into the water, she scrubbed roughly over her hands and arms where they were exposed below the sleeves of the dress. Her neck and shoulders she cleansed of the film of perspiration, as well as her face. She eyed George dubiously, wanting to move her efforts to her legs, but was decidedly uncomfortable with him standing there, watching.

"Did you want some help out of your garment, Madam?" he offered without a hint of the sneering innuendo she'd come to expect of the men aboard this ship.

"I think I've had enough pairs of eyes on me for one day already, Mr George. Besides, it was a fair effort to get into this dress one time today as it is — I'd like to avoid having to do it twice."

"Let me assure you, Mrs Collingwood," the carpenter said with a low chuckle, "You've nothing under those skirts that holds any interest for me."

His comment struck a chord with her and, looking back up at him, she saw on his face the familiar indifference to her form that graced the expression of her late husband whenever he came upon her in a state of undress. Hannah knew then, or at least she suspected, why Blackburn chose this man and not some other to supervise her in this task — George would not be any sort of threat to the captain's claim on her.

Secure in her knowledge that the carpenter would be making no inappropriate advances, she hiked the hem of her skirts up over her knees and set about scrubbing herself with a will. She did still turn away from him, though, when she moved to wash away the evidence of lust — hers and the captain's both, she was ashamed to admit — from between her thighs. Modesty would have prevented her from cleansing that private area in front of even another woman.

Hannah finished with wiping down any other areas of skin she could get to without having to take off her dress and, folding her legs beneath her once more, draped the rag over the side of the bucket and sat back to indicate that she'd done all the bathing she intended to do.

Mr George's fingers tapped at his lips in thought as he shifted his weight to his other leg, his eyes focused in the air somewhere above Hannah. "You know," he said slowly, as if speaking his thoughts while they still formed in his mind, "I don't know as I've seen the captain bother about a woman as much as he has you." He flicked his gaze back down to meet hers. "Why do you think that is? He's normally such a practical man."