Page 58 of The Sea Witch (Salt & Sorcery #1)

At first, the kiss was gentle, the soft meeting of her lips to his. Alys wrapped her arms around Ben’s shoulders, holding

him tightly as they kissed. She gave him tenderness and he took it.

But then they kissed deeply in rough, drugging tastes. One of his hands splayed just above her arse and the other gripped

her hip.

“The chaise,” she said.

He staggered backward to the chaise, still holding her. He sat down heavily and she went with him. She straddled him as the

kiss continued.

“Alys.” His voice was a growl. “I want... I need...” Yet he seemed to hold himself back.

“More,” she gasped

“Yes.”

After tugging off her boots, she hooked her hands into the lapels of his coat and pulled it down his shoulders. At the same

time, he fumbled for the buttons of her waistcoat and cursed in frustration from the countless fastenings. Why the hell had

she worn such an elaborate garment?

“These... damn... buttons,” he snarled.

“Tear them off,” she panted. “Just do it.”

He hesitated for a moment. She took his hands and placed them on her waistcoat.

Ben pulled on the two sides of her vest, and buttons flew in every direction.

“I’ve never done... that before,” he confessed. “Wanted to.”

“You want more,” she urged. When his gaze dropped to her chest, she took his hands and brought them to her breasts.

She moaned as his hands cupped her breasts through the fine lawn fabric of her shirt.

His thumbs stroked back and forth to tease her nipples into aching points.

“Pinch them,” she encouraged.

He did so, lightly, and she arched back with a cry.

She pulled back long enough to strip away her coat and waistcoat. Warm, humid air touched her skin as she whisked off her

shirt.

He bent close to her breasts, his mouth hovering over one of her nipples. “Can I?”

“Goddesses, yes.”

She cried out when he took the nipple in his mouth, tonguing it. He gave her other breast the same attention, and she pressed

his head against her. His mouth was hot and wonderfully greedy as he lapped at her like a forbidden treat.

“Unfair,” she gasped. “I’m exposed, and you’re as secure as a fortress.”

“You’re a pirate,” he said with a rakish grin. “So plunder me.”

Sitting back, she managed to peel off his coat, and his waistcoat, before removing his shirt and throwing it to one side.

His upper body bare, she indulged herself, running her hands over his shoulders, down the lengths of his arms, along his chest.

His markings stood out boldly against his skin. She ran her tongue along them, tasting the brine of his flesh and basking

in the steady stream of curses that flowed from him.

“The upstanding, dependable naval sailing master,” she murmured with approval, “undone at last.”

His eyes flashed. “You think you cannot lose control, Captain Tanner?”

“I’d like to see you try to make me, Mr. Priestley.”

The world spun and she was on her back, splayed on the chaise, as he loomed over her. His face was taut and his eyes dark.

“Never offer me a challenge, Captain Tanner,” he said, his voice rough. “Unless you want to provoke me.”

“What’ll you do?” she taunted. “ Navigate me to death?”

His lip curled. “I’ll discover your geography, Captain. Without and within .”

Before she could hurl a retort, his lips were on hers. He braceleted her wrists with one hand. With the other, he tugged off

her breeches, stripping her as effectively as a hurricane stripped a tree of its leaves. She was completely bare now, her

naked flesh pressed between the silk of the chaise’s cushions and his body.

His gaze fell to her lower abdomen. Gently, he touched the coin-sized marking on her belly, a small figure of a bow and arrow.

“What’s this?”

“A symbol of Artemis,” she explained breathlessly. “The Virgin Hunter. A spell painted on with henna. It prevents me from

conceiving.”

“You cannot—”

“Not so long as Artemis’s mark is upon my skin. There’s no danger of pregnancy.”

His pupils widened. “I can come inside of you.”

“I damn well insist upon it.”

She pulled her wrists free from his grasp and dug her nails into his shoulders. Their mouths met once more.

He trailed his hand down between her breasts.

He paused long enough to toy with her nipples, rousing them into taut points, before gliding down her stomach and going lower.

As their kiss lingered and heightened, he sifted through the hair between her legs, then continued on. He stroked the seam of her sex.

She pushed her hips up, desperate for a deeper touch.

“A cartographer must discover every part of the geography, Captain.”

“Enough of this survey, Sailing Master,” she snarled. “ Touch me. ”

He licked into her mouth. “Is that a command?”

“Ben, now .”

She cursed with pleasure when his long finger delved between her lips, and his oath joined hers. “Fuck.”

In response, she arched up again. His rough fingertip grazed her clitoris, and when she moaned, he stroked her there again,

and again.

“Mark me,” she urged, “like an animal marking its mate.”

He dragged his mouth from hers. He skimmed his lips along her jaw, and down her throat. She gasped when he bit her neck, just

as she wanted.

As he did this, he sank two fingers inside her. His thumb caressed her clitoris in time with the pumps of his hand. She lifted

her hips in encouragement and he worked his hand faster, fucking her steadily as he stroked her clitoris. The sharp sting

of his teeth on her neck only heightened her pleasure.

The climax struck her. She bowed up with a cry.

Yet he didn’t stop. If anything, her release only urged him on, his efforts strengthening as he relentlessly chased her pleasure.

He growled when she cried out with another orgasm and another.

Vision hazy, she watched him pull back just enough to slip his fingers from her. He gave his fingers a thorough lick, his

eyes heavy-lidded, before painting her nipples with the slick combination of his saliva and her arousal. Then he swept his

tongue over her nipples, drawing one and then the other into his mouth, until she whimpered.

“Fuck me, Ben.”

“Is that what you want? My cock deep inside of you, filling you up?”

“Yes, by the tides, yes.”

His gaze fierce, his hand shaking, he tore open the placket of his breeches. He exhaled when he freed his cock, and Alys licked

her lips.

“What a gorgeous cock you have, Mr. Priestley,” she breathed.

“It wants you. I want you.” He fisted his cock. The sight of him with his shaft in his hand brought a rush of renewed wetness in her sex.

“Let me touch it.”

“Another time,” he panted. “Now, I need inside your... your...”

“My cunt.” Her words were breathless. “You can say it.”

“Inside your sweet cunt.”

By the stars, his profanity urged her legs to spread wider.

His gaze fastened on her sex as he lined up his cock with her opening. He gripped himself as he stroked his shaft up and down,

coating himself in her arousal. Then, with one thrust, he plunged into her. All the way to the hilt.

She couldn’t stop the cry that escaped her. He hadn’t lied. He truly did fill her up, completely, absolutely. Her body stretched

around his thickness.

“I’m hurting you.” He started to draw away, but she hooked her ankles behind his back, holding him in place.

“I swear by all the seas,” she panted, “that I’ll commit murder if you pull out now. A moment. That’s all I need. One moment

for me to learn what it means to have you truly inside me.”

He nodded, the cords on his neck standing out from the strain of holding himself still.

Gradually, her body relaxed. The initial pain faded. Pleasure took its place.

“Kiss me,” she commanded eagerly. “Then fuck me.”

“Aye, Captain.” He took her lips, his mouth ravishing hers. His hips began to move. Patiently, steadily. Each thrust jolted through her body. He saturated her senses as he plunged in and out.

“Harder now,” she urged.

His eyes blazed and his hips surged in fast thick thrusts. The chaise shook beneath her.

“Give me your hand,” she panted. When he did, she brought it between their bodies, to her clitoris. She commanded, “Stroke

it, with each drive of your cock.”

A climax overtook her. Exploding through her, hot and gleaming. Yet he hadn’t achieved his own release.

“Want to try something,” he huffed. At her questioning look, he said, “From behind.”

“I order you to do it.” Her command was breathless.

He pulled her up off the chaise. She was boneless in the aftermath as he stood and positioned her so that she was draped over

the chaise’s curved arm. He stood behind her, his hands clasping her hips with enough force to bruise.

She loved it. Loved what she could make this restrained, disciplined man do.

“Hold tight,” he rumbled.

She did, gripping the upholstery. He notched his cock to her entrance, and then plunged into her.

“Oh, goddesses,” she gasped.

“The gods can’t help us now,” he said, his voice hoarse.

The chaise buckled beneath her and she clutched it for support, even as she pushed back to meet his thrusts.

She glanced over her shoulder to watch him. His eyes were half closed, his mouth open as he panted with each stroke.

“Come with me, Flame,” he urged.

“I can’t,” she moaned. She’d lost count of how many orgasms she’d already had.

“Let me try.”

He released one of the hands gripping her hips, bringing it around between her legs. He caressed her clitoris as he continued to fuck her.

She came again with a long moan.

“Alys,” he snarled. “I’m—”

“Inside me, Ben,” she commanded. “I want all of it.”

His breath gusted over her back as he pressed himself tightly against her, each tremor moving from his body into hers. A smaller

softer climax glided through her at the feel of his release.

He pressed his damp face against the nape of her neck, lavishing kisses on her skin. “Beautiful, beautiful Alys. My Flame.

I didn’t know it could be like this.”

She closed her eyes. It was too much. He was too much. And the awful thing was that she couldn’t wait to do everything again. With him.

Finally, he pulled out, and her body missed him already. Her legs had lost all stability but before they could buckle, he

swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. After tucking her beneath the covers, he stripped off his boots and breeches,

then strode to a stand that held a pitcher and basin. Through drowsy eyes, she admired his nude body, covered with his intriguing

markings, as he poured water into the basin, dampened a cloth, and then brought it back to the bed.

She purred as he gently, thoroughly cleaned his seed from her, before cleansing himself. He cast the cloth aside as he climbed

into bed and gathered her against him. Her hand pressed over his heart, feeling it pound beneath her palm.

Tenderly, he kissed her forehead.

Fear uncoiled in her, a serpent awakening from its slumber.

“Ben,” she gulped. “We can’t—”

The building around them shook and dust filtered from the ceiling. An inhuman roar pierced the night.