THE CAPTURE: The Marriage Diaries, Volume 6 (Invitation To Eden) (8 page)

She didn’t have to ask Dean to know that he’d arranged this adventure, and she silently gave him kudos for being so creative and romantic.

“Ready to go skinny dipping?” he asked.

“Are you sure we’ll be alone?” The last thing she wanted was to get caught in the buff by a stranger who happened to stroll by.

“Guaranteed,” he assured her with a wink. “This is our private lagoon for the afternoon. You game to get naked?”

She nodded eagerly. “Oh, yeah.” Swimming in the nude was something she’d always wanted to do, but there had never been a good time or place . . . until now.

She pulled off her dress, and in this instance she was grateful that she wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath. Dean shucked his pants, and she ran into the lagoon ahead of him, sucking in a quick breath as the cold water shocked her warm skin and entire system. She came to an abrupt stop hip deep, while Dean dove straight into the pool and surfaced a few feet away from her. Seeing that she’d yet to fully submerse herself, he grinned wickedly and splashed her unmercifully.

She squealed like a young girl while trying unsuccessfully to ward off the avalanche of water he sent her way. Once she was drenched she retaliated, and a battle of waterworks ensued between them, until they were both laughing and dripping wet.

For the next hour they swam and played, chasing one another and letting the capture end in steamy kisses and slow, slick caresses. They made out like teenagers beneath the waterfall, and while the desire between them simmered on a slow burn, neither one of them felt the frantic need to slake their lust. Between this morning’s love making, and tonight’s promise of something wild and erotic, this lazy afternoon was all about enjoying the build of sexual tension, knowing that this evening would bring pleasure and satisfaction.

They ate a picnic lunch of finger sandwiches and fruit, drank a bottle of wine, and took a nap together in the hammock. The swaying motion of the canvas bed lulled them both to sleep while Jillian cuddled close to Dean’s chest, his arm draped around her.

When they returned to the cottage hours later, and she came out of the bathroom from taking a hot shower, a new outfit had been laid out on the bed for her to wear for tonight’s outing. While Dean disappeared into the dungeon room to get dressed himself, Jillian put on her costume—a white, button-up shirtdress that ended above the knee in a soft cascade of feminine ruffles, and a black and purple leather vest that cinched up tight through her waist and bust and plumped together her unbound breasts. Instead of knee-high boots, she’d been provided with a pair of black patent leather, four inch stilettos.

She glanced into the mirror inside the armoire, feeling incredibly sexy and daring. She’d curled her hair and left it down, and her skin glowed pink from the kiss of sun during today’s outing at the lagoon. She smiled at her reflection, at how provocative and seductive she looked, and how that confidence made her body buzz with awareness.

“Jesus,” Dean grated out from behind her. “You look hot enough to fuck.”

She spun around, giving him a sassy smile. “I believe that’s the goal tonight, isn’t it?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” he murmured huskily, his heated gaze raking down the length of her, then back up again.

He’d changed into his pirate attire of black breeches, white shirt, and waistcoat, and a long sword was attached to his leather belt. He strolled toward Jillian, and her gaze dropped to the strip of black leather and length of chain he held in his hand.

A frisson of excitement coursed through her, making her feel breathless. “What’s that for?”

He lifted up the leather collar and the chain leash attached to it, a very Black Heart smirk curving his lips. “You’re still my captive and my slave, and tonight you’ll be treated as such.”

Moving behind her, he wrapped the soft, fur-lined collar around her throat, pushed her hair to one side, and securely buckled the two inch wide strap behind her neck before coming to stand in front of her again. The chain leash connected to a silver ring in front, and he gave it a slight tug on the snug collar that accelerated her pulse—in a very arousing way.

“This is to keep you in line and to make sure every man in the room knows you’re mine,” he said, his entire demeanor taking on that dangerous edge of an unscrupulous pirate. “I will not tolerate your disobedience tonight, in any way, do you understand?”

In this fantasy element, his authority thrilled her, and she nodded, prepared to be the
willing
wench he wanted. Tonight wasn’t about struggling and denying herself, it was about enjoying and savoring the pleasure of being this man’s obedient slave.

“Yes, master,” she said softly.

He gave her a pleased smile, gave a gentle tug on the leash that propelled her forward, and headed for the door. “Let’s go and have some fun.”

T
hey arrived back to the scene where the auction had taken place the day before, but the inside of the tavern had been transformed into what looked and felt like an open-area brothel. The auction dais was still present, but the place was more dimly lit with candles on the tables and sconces on the walls. Pirates and sailors were chasing laughing harlots, and others had succumbed to more pleasurable pursuits right there in the spacious room filled with upholstered lounge chairs and settees.

She followed her master through the establishment, taking it all in with wide, fascinated eyes. The pirate atmosphere remained, but there was no mistaking that this evening’s fantasy was an old-time version of what transpired at the more modern day Players Club. Tonight was all about sexual satisfaction, erotic scenarios, and watching and enjoying hedonistic desires being played out.

They walked past a couple who were in the throes of fucking—the young sailor had the curvy woman bent over a table, her voluminous skirts shoved around her waist while he took her from behind. Another woman was deep-throating a man’s cock while another stood behind her with a soft leather whip and smacked her pinkening ass with it while she moaned and sucked even harder. The sights and sounds aroused Jillian, made her skin flush and her pulse pound with her own rising lust.

Keeping a tight grip on the leash, Black Heart led her toward a vacant settee, and Jillian exhaled on a sharp, startled scream as a strong arm snagged her around the waist and she was pulled back against a hard, unyielding body. The attack was so unexpected, she immediately struggled against the other man’s hold.

Black Heart spun around, fast and lithe, drawing the sword at his waist with precision and ease as he pointed the sharp-edged tip at the adversary behind her. “Let her go, Howell,” he demanded in a low, menacing tone of voice. “And I
may
let you live.”

Howell
, the man who’d bid against Black Heart to win her as his slave, tightened his arm around her, his face much too close to hers as he dared to caress the tips of his fingers along the exposed curve of her breast. “And what if she prefers another master to the likes of you?” he asked snidely, challenging Black Heart.

“She is mine,” he replied very calmly, though his gray eyes blazed with fury. “I will fight to the death for her.
Your
death.”

“We shall see about that.” With a hard push, Howell shoved Jillian out of the way and withdrew his own lethal looking sword.

She stumbled on her feet, and Black Heart let go of the lead connecting to her collar so she was out of harm’s way and he could face-off with his rival. Jillian stood by the sidelines with the rest of the crowd that had gathered, her heart racing in panic. She knew this had to be a prearranged act, but it all felt so very real, especially when Howell charged at Black Heart, his sword pointed directly at his chest.

Jillian gasped, but Black Heart was quick to deflect the attack and advance upon the other man, setting off a battle of strength and determination between the two men. The sound of steel clashing echoed in Jillian’s ears as they engaged in combat and terror gripped her. Howell was a worthy opponent, but with every slash of the heavy sword, she could see the muscles in Black Heart’s arm flex, until he eventually wore down the other man and over-powered him.

With a hard, swift, upswing, Black Heart dislodge the sword from Howell’s grasp, sending it scattering across the floor. Without a weapon, the other man stumbled back, tripping on his own feet and falling flat on his ass. His eyes grew wide with fear as Black Heart advanced upon him, until he stood over his sprawled form, intimidating and formidable, and pressed the tip of his blade against Howell’s heart.

“Do you know why they call me Black Heart?” he asked the man he’d pinned beneath his sword. When Howell shook his head nervously, her pirate rogue grinned treacherously. “Because I carve out the hearts of the men who try and steal what’s mine.”

Howell swallowed hard, and knowing he’d lost this fight, his gaze turned pleading. “Spare me, please.”

Black Heart considered his request, and glanced over at Jillian, giving her the choice as to the other man’s fate.

She was so caught up in the realism of the performance, she blurted out, “Let him live,” before Black Heart changed his mind.

“He doesn’t deserve your mercy, but very well,” he said, and motioned for two very burly sailors to come forward. “Howell will live, but not pleasantly. Take him away to the rat infested prisons below.”

“Aye, as you wish,” one of the sailors said, as the two of them restrained Howell and escorted him out of the tavern.

Jillian’s knees went weak with relief that bloodshed had been avoided. But she had to admit, act or not, it had been exciting and thrilling to watch Black Heart defend her honor and wield that sword with such expertise.

Black Heart sheathed his sword and strolled back toward Jillian, and the rest of the on-lookers broke out in cheers over his win. She watched her pirate approach, her breath catching in her throat at his sexy swagger and the triumphant gleam in his eyes. Reaching her, he circled an arm around her waist and brought her body flush to his.

“Is this the part where I swoon?” she couldn’t resist asking playfully. “Because that sword fight was
definitely
swoon-worthy.”

He chuckled in amusement, but there was a seriousness in the depths of his gray eyes. “I will
always
protect you and what’s mine.”

Not just in this fantasy he’d created, but
always
. “I know,” she whispered, then he celebrated his victory by claiming her mouth in a hot, tongue-tangling kiss she returned with just as much passion and ardor.

“Let the festivities resume!” someone in the tavern yelled, and another round of cheers went up from the revelers. “The sweetest, finest rum for the winner!”

They returned to a vacant settee in a more secluded area of the brothel, where her pirate sat close beside her on the cushioned seat, his hand wrapped once again around the chain leash. A young, pretty girl delivered a ceramic stein of rum, her ample breasts nearly spilling from her low-cut bodice as she deliberately bent over to place it on the side table.

“This one’s on the house,” she said, batting her lashes at him. “And if there’s anything else you want or need, just let me know. My name’s Nicola.”

The invitation in her voice was unmistakable, but Black Heart merely gave her a slow, lazy grin as he stroked a hand up Jillian’s bare leg. “I already have everything I want or need right here.”

With a disappointed pout, the woman moved on, quickly catching the eye of two men across the room who were more than willing to accommodate her. Nicola sat between the two sailors and started making out with one of them, while the other guy moved in close and began kissing her neck as his hand disappeared beneath her skirt.

Jillian had no idea if Nicola was a part of Black Heart’s scenario, or if the other woman was possibly re-enacting a fantasy of her own. Either way, it was all consensual, all extremely erotic, and it set the tone for a very risqué evening.

Other salacious activities were starting to take place again, and Jillian realized that they had the best view in the place to watch all the debauchery unfolding in front of them, to be a voyeur to all the kinky display of sexual indulgences. Her blood rushed warm and languid through her veins, and she shifted restlessly, rubbing her legs together and finding that she was already wet and aroused.

“Sit on my lap, slave,” Black Heart said, his gruff voice reflecting shades of his own lust at the various scenes going on around them.

She stood up, then started to sit sideways across his thighs, but he quickly redirected her. He grabbed her hips and settled her on his lap so that her back was pressed against his.

“I want you to face forward,” he said, pulling on her skirt and arranging the material out of the way so that her bare bottom slid against the fabric of his breeches and the firm, solid press of his erection rubbed against her ass. “I want to make sure you see everything.”

Oh, she could see everything, and everyone . . . and she realized that anyone glancing their way could see her, too. Her heart raced a bit faster at the thought. There was only a candle on the table beside them, but it was enough to cast a soft, hazy illumination, and she was grateful for the dim lighting that would at least provide a small measure of privacy.