Page 53 of Bloody Black

R obb and I kiss for a long while, until we’re both a bit breathless. But he doesn’t make a move, doesn’t take the initiative. Doesn’t, maybe, want to push me. Or he doesn’t understand my very obvious signaling.

Finally, I have no choice but to simply announce it, grasping his face in both hands. “Robb. I would like to have sex with you.”

“You do?” He looks ecstatic.

“Do you need to be on top?” he asks. “I’ll do things however you want. Whatever you need.”

“I, um?” I’m not sure. For now, it seems fine.

He reaches between us and holds his cock in one hand, rubbing it back and forth against my opening. It would be so easy to shove inside me. If I didn’t like it, he could ignore my protests. No one would hear.

“Wait.” I put my hand on his chest, swallowing hard. “Will it hurt? ”

Fury crosses his face. “You know I would rather die than be counted among those men.”

I chew my lip, warring with indecision. The last time this happened…

Robb glances around, then leans over, grasping my rose dagger. It is still where I left it, lying on the nightstand. A moment later, his hand closes over mine, his big, broad, tanned hand, and he places my dagger in it. “You will make sure I don’t.”

The blue leather-wrapped hilt is comfortable, the blade wickedly sharp. “If I hurt you, put that through my heart.”

My fingers tighten on instinct. I could drive it into his stomach right now. It would be easy. So easy. Part of me still wants to crawl away and order him to leave. But another part, some big fragment of my old self that I barely recognize, wants to be here. With him.

I lay the knife on the bed beside me, never taking my hand off the hilt.

“Yes or no, Anne. I’ve done many bad things, but taking a woman against her will isn’t one of them.”

“Come on then,” I whisper brokenly, and spread my thighs.

Robb eases forward. Slow. Giving me every opportunity to scream, to stab him or panic. Bit by bit, he settles into the cradle of my body, sliding straight inside.

Sweet gods. Somehow I accept him, the foreign thing entering me.

“You’re so tight—it feels—” he speaks through gritted teeth, jaw tightening. “You have to let me know if I should stop.”

Mute, I nod. Too overcome by the sensations to know what to say. My body is tense, yes, but for once it’s not guarded, and not clenching in pain. If anything, it’s welcoming .

Once he’s fully seated inside me, Robb carefully lowers himself until his chest is against mine, kisses my jaw, my eyes, my nose. Our tongues touch and mingle. I am unpractised. Terrified. More than anything, I don’t want him to break me.

“I’ve got you. Don’t be scared.” He thrusts slowly, steadily, stroking against some secret place. A soft moan rises from my chest.

The warmth of his skin settles on me like a blanket, chasing away the chill. His fingers drift over my throat, my eye, my nose, my ribs. Tracing every invisible wound. Like his touch alone might heal me. Soothe away the fear.

“I want you to come again.”

When I look up at him, I fixate on the cords of muscles standing out along his shoulders. He’s so strong, so… masculine. If anything, he’s even more intimidating with his clothes off.

“I don’t know if I can,” I admit. I’m too keyed up, too nervous about it all.

“Let me rephrase. We aren’t leaving this bed until I’ve satisfied you.”

I resist the urge to make a sarcastic comment.

Although, I should have known how it would go. Robb is thorough. Every kiss, every touch fills up the empty rooms of my heart. My legs tremble and shake, my eyes tear, but he doesn’t look away. I cling to his neck like a drowning woman, lost at sea, silently begging him to save me.

“How do you want it, Princess? Harder?” He sucks, then nibbles, on my neck. “Or softer?”

I kiss the gulls tattooed on his bicep. “Harder?” I whisper, a little ashamed to admit it .

His next thrust hits deeper, sending a bolt of lightning through my body. Feeling my reaction, he does it again and again, until I’m shaking. Soon his hips move with force, slapping against my skin.

When I come the second time, it’s slower. Better. It’s like being bathed in golden sunlight, and I cry out his name. Every nerve of my body pulses, and I can feel his heartbeat all the way to the soles of my feet.

A choked sound escapes him, half groan, half curse. I worry, for one terrible, shattering heartbeat. But Robb wrenches himself away, grasping himself, spilling his seed onto the sheet. Even in the throes of passion, he’s respecting my boundaries.

Everything about this is so different from the sex I had before.

From being under Venka or Soren or William or Roger.

And even though it’s the absolute wrong moment, I think about them.

For a second too long, my mind goes back to that night.

To the horror and the cruel words, to how hard I tried to fight.

And a tear rolls down my face.

“What’s wrong?” Robb immediately notices. “Sweetheart? Fuck. Sorry… I’m sorry. Are you alright?” He cups my face in his hands, all of it forgotten. “Did I hurt you?”

No matter what I tell myself, I cannot contain my feelings.

Not this time. The entire experience has unmoored me, and I sob into Robb’s forearm.

Full body, gut-wrenching, gasping. I weep like a dam has broken and every tear has its own ocean of pain.

Because I’m only now realizing what sex should be like.

How much better this is from my wedding night.

How I hate William for ruining me. Hating myself for believing him.

Upset that I waited so long to experience this .

“Anne. Talk to me.” Robb sounds devastated.

“It’s not you,” I manage. And it’s true.

Carefully, he rolls us over, gathers me onto his chest and strokes my back. “Tell me what happened. All of it.”

His words feel like a glass in my heart, and I realize that my tears are rolling down his ribs. “You don’t want to hear.”

“I do. Because I’m going to gut them. After you, of course. Ladies first.” Robb nuzzles the top of my head.

When I can speak, when I’ve got some semblance of control, I say it. “William gave me to his men.”

“What do you mean, he gave you?”

“On the dock. They held me down and—you know what they did. Then afterward, they stabbed me. They put me in a trunk.”

He processes this, not reacting. Instead, his hand continues to stroke my skin.

“Rokhur was already there. Inside the chest. If it hadn’t been for her...” That’s as much as I can admit. I tuck my face under his chin, too afraid to look at him.

“William said you ran away. Escaped. He searched for you for months. He sent men—many men, including me—to look for you.”

“I know. Being Blackbeard made me disappear; the crew kept me hidden. Safe.”

Well. As safe as any pirate ever could be. I wipe my snotty nose with the back of my hand, and to his credit, Robb doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. In fact, he squeezes me a little, just lightly, a touch of reassurance .

“If I don’t stop him, he’ll do the same to Genevieve. But I won’t ask you to help me. I know he’s…” I trail off.

What exactly do I know? Are William and Robb friends?

Employer and employee? King and loyal servant?

I have no idea. He’s never said. In fact, the list of things I don’t know about Robb is fairly long, and he hasn’t exactly been forthcoming.

Every time I ask him anything about himself, he has some flirtatious remark, or he steers the conversation back to me.

And I let him. Usually.

But not tonight, because tonight I’m tired of hiding.

Tired of flinching every time a man gets close to me.

Tired of feeling like I’m made of glass.

I’ve already let him in, already allowed him to be so close to me.

Meanwhile, Robb is the right-hand of my enemy, my husband, the murderer.

Sex shouldn’t be in the vocabulary, yet it is, which means there can’t be any more secrets between us.

“You’re still William’s lieutenant. Still sent to kill me. Still my captive, despite those bonds being cut. But I need to know who you really are, Robb. Where you come from. How you met him.”

“No.” His words are sharp. “Not right now.”

I still. “No?”

“I know I owe you answers, but not tonight.” He sounds upset. I don’t have to know men or him to hear it in his voice.

I exhale, long and deep, as the truth approaches me like a rogue swell. “You don’t want to talk about this?”

“Not really. I will, but only if you insist.”

I hesitate. Do I honestly want to have this conversation now? Or is it just me self-sabotaging?

“You must have made him oaths. Promises. ”

“William lied to me,” he says emphatically.

“So, any promises made can be damned. That being said,” Robb clears his throat, “I don’t know what you expect to find waiting in Celestia, but it won’t be anything good.

You think you’re walking a path to justice, but you’re heading right back to the pain. Back to him .”

My body flinches, pulls away from his warmth as if I’ve been slapped.

“Killing William won’t give you peace.” He sits up, the sheets falling away from us. “It won’t be what you need.”

My mouth falls open. “What do you know about what I need?” Furious, I scramble away, toward the edge of the mattress.

“Plenty.” Before I can stand, Robb grabs me around the waist. Hauls me back into his arms.

“Let go.”

“Never.”

I squirm against his grip, furious and humiliated, but his arms lock around me like iron bands as he drags me back into the center of the bed, underneath him. And despite my training, despite my strength, I let him.

“You don’t get to say things like that,” I hiss. “You were inside me for five minutes and now you’re preaching at me?”

Robb huffs out a breath. “It was an incredible five minutes. Possibly six. And I’m not preaching, but I am warning you.”

“Warning me?” My palm burns to slap him.