Princess of Pirates

6_Worked up

Zelia

With my head down, I follow Jehan back to his cabin. What I would give for a moment alone right now. I just want to sulk and feel sorry for myself for a moment. I want to go home. I miss my parents. I worry about Charlotte, and I fear for what is waiting for me when we reach Jehan’s cabin. It is so utterly exhausting to keep my composure. I need a moment to succumb to my fears and worries. A moment where I can just unwind and regain strength to continue riding this mad horse I have mounted.

As soon as we are in his cabin, Jehan turns on a single lamp and go lies down on his bed. Next to his bed, is a mattress with a pillow and blanket and I pray silently that it is meant for me. Sharing a room with him is bad enough. Sharing a bed with him will be unbearable.

For a second, I think how much this sleeping arrangement would upset my parents. I bet, if Father could choose, he would much rather let Charlotte marry Francois than me sharing a room with a pirate.

“Take off my boots,” he orders through half-mast eyes and my heart sinks.

I do not say a word, I just walk closer and fight the tears that are stinging my eyes. I am acutely aware of his icy stare as I struggle his boots off. I place them neatly at the door.

“And my socks,” he barks at me as I just stand like a statue.

Humiliation builds up in me as I walk back to his bed and take off his socks. Silently I pray that he is not going to order me to take off his pants. I do not think I will survive that.

“Get my nightshirt,” he mumbles as he stands up.

Quickly I turn around and obey. The last thing I need to see is him naked. The memory of him with his bare chest is still burned into my mind and my heart skips a beat every time I think of it. My heart might just stop beating if I should see him naked.

Jehan chuckles softly at my embarrassment as I hand him his shirt without looking up and I am grateful that it is too dark for him to see the red of shame creeping up my neck.

His shirt and pants drop on the floor, and I move quickly to pick them up and drape them over the chair. As long as I am busy, I can avoid looking at him.

“Now you,” he says softly.

“Excuse me?” I spin around and look at him, my eyes big with shock.

“You heard me,” he grins as he goes and lies on his bed. He crosses his ankles and put his hand lazily behind his head, looking at me. “And do it slowly.”

My body is numb, and I cannot move. I cannot do this. No man has ever seen me naked or in my underwear. He might be the most gorgeous and desirable man that I have ever laid eyes on, but I do not care. It is inappropriate.

“Not that slow, Bordeaux,” he growls.

“I … no … I,” I stutter at a loss for words.

“Either you do it or I will do it for you,” he warns sternly.

I close my eyes as my fingers move up to the ties in front of my breasts. I swallow hard on the humiliation as I start to undo my corset. It is deadly quiet in the cabin as it drops to the floor, and I start taking off my skirt. When I am only in my underdress, I pick up my clothes and hang them on the chair next to Jehan’s. I might as well be naked. Even in the limited light from the lamp, I know he can see through the thin material of my underdress.

I hear him get off the bed and all my senses go into overdrive. His body heat betrays that he is standing behind me and I can feel his warm breath breeze on my neck. I am not ready for this. I am not ready to belong to a man.

I cannot stop the trembling of my body as he slowly turns me around to face him. I force myself to look him in the eye. There is no doubt in my mind that he knows this situation is making me uncomfortable, but I will myself not to show it.

“You smell like roses,” his voice is soft and low.

“Your hair has the colour of beautiful golden silk in sunlight,” he continues as he drags his fingers through my hair. “Your eyes are more golden than brown. I have never in my life seen anything like it.”

I am speechless. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect compliments from a man of his kind and his behaviour confuses me even more. Is he not supposed to be a brute? His fingers trail through my hair into my neck and my heart starts picking up the pace and is beating impossible fast. Goosebumps follow his fingers as they stroke from my neck to the seam of my underdress. Agonizingly slow his fingers continue their journey along the seam to the front.

My breath hitches in my throat as his hands cup my breast and this time, I know he can feel my n*****s harden in his palms.

“Please stop,” I whimper and close my eyes. The sensation is unbearably good. My breasts are begging for his touch, but my mind is screaming in protest.

“So soft, so pure,” he whispers as his thumbs are circling over my n*****s and a moan escapes my lips as the sweet torture continues. There is a knot in my stomach that tightens with every motion of his hands and my entire body starts to tremble slightly.

“Please,” I beg once more softly. I want this to continue forever and ever, but I know this should not happen. This is not me wanting this, it is just my body that is enjoying these unknown sensations.

“Look at me,” he commands and reluctantly I obey. “There will be a day that you will beg me not to stop.”

“Never,” my voice is hoarse and unrecognizable to myself.

He steps away from me, and I stumble a bit as if my body is missing his touch already.

“How I do love a challenge,” he smiles mischievously at me before he turns around and climbs into his bed. Leaving me cold and shivering in the middle of his cabin.

“Turn the lamp off when you come to bed,” he turns his back to me and suddenly I am furious.

I do not know why I am this upset. He did exactly what I asked. He stopped. Why am I this upset? Why do I feel robbed?

Fuming I turn off the lamb and make myself comfortable on the mattress, but I cannot sleep. My body is too worked up. I am supposed to be tired after the day’s work. I am supposed to be relieved that we are not spending another night in the hold. I am supposed to be relieved and satisfied that he did not pursue his quest with my body. Still, here I am. All worked up and annoyed.

This is so unfair. I despise this man and still, he can send my body into overdrive with just a touch. Why does he have this effect on me and he could not be bothered less by me? Am I not desirable to him? Maybe that is the reason why I feel so worked up. The fact that he can command my body, but I cannot do the same. It must be that. The only reasonable explanation as to why I am feeling this way.

“Lie still,” he growls. “Your tossing and turning are keeping me awake.”

For the first time in my life, I must fight the urge to yell obscenities at another. With a grunt, I puff my pillow and lie down.

I swear this man is going to be the end of me.