Page 29 of A Flash of Golden Fire

“You really are quite lovely under all that dirt. Such a pretty little rooster,” he said, his tone relaxed and contemplative.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to reveal how touched I was at those words. It had been a long time since anyone had been so gracious to me.

“Do you think so?”

“Simon, you wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t found you charming, even in your previously neglected state,” he said with a refreshing directness. “But now you’re quite pretty.”

“Pretty! I ain’t no lass.”

He grinned. “Thank heavens. But you’re as lovely as one.”

“I’m not. Truly, Captain, I think your brain is addled.”

He quirked the corner of his lips. “Quite likely. At any rate, your beauty is secondary to your skills at the moment,” he said with a pragmatic inflection that made me desperate to please him. “Get to work.”

“Yes, Captain.”

I crawled over the bed to him, then met his gaze as I took his offered prick into my mouth and swallowed him down in one movement.

He gasped, stuttered, then cursed.

I drew off him and grinned.

“Again?” I asked.

He blinked. “Again.”

This time, he let out a deep groan and closed his eyes.

“All right. That’s good. That’s very good.”

“More?”

“More.”

I fellated him, using my best techniques, for a short time, enjoying the noises and sounds he made—soft sighs, gasps, and moans.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair.

“Ow!” The word was muffled by his swollen appendage.

“Stop messing about and get me off,” he ordered, his tone desperate and firm.

“Uh-huh,” I grunted, knowing the vibrations of my words were making him crazy.

I splayed my hands on his powerful thighs and got to work, licking and slurping and swallowing that club of a cock like my life depended on the task.

Perhaps there was truth to that idea. If I could please Captain Martin and show him my intrinsic value, even if only as a cock slut and bed warmer, then perhaps I could gain a permanent place on theArrowand not be tossed off at the next landing.

The captain groaned, one hand on my head, watching me with heavy-lidded eyes and a perverted fascination.

“Christ. Christ. Christ,” he muttered.

But I was barely watching him. My focus was my mouth, my throat, and that solid baton of his. I made fucking love to his prick with my whole heart.

“Oh! God! Simon!” he grunted, his fingers tightening in my hair, tugging just enough to make my own cock throb. He erupted, his seed streaming down my willing throat, as he groaned with the ecstasy of a sudden and substantial release.

He held me still and only let me go when I started coughing and sputtering. He pulled himself out and gave me a little slap on the cheek.