Sea of Ruin Read online Pam Godwin

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Historical Fiction, Romance Tags Authors: Pam Godwin Advertisement1

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Damn him and his beautiful pouting mouth. It was the bane of my existence and the only thing I could focus on. So I did what any immoral woman in my position would do.

I propped my bandaged foot on the desk, spread my legs wide, and reached beneath my skirts.

I didn’t need him or any man for this, but it didn’t hurt to imagine his sensual blue eyes. Hooded, unblinking, unsmiling, gorgeous gulfs of blue. I swirled my fingers around my swollen flesh, stirring my slickness and growing hotter. Until those blue eyes turned silver, sharp and glinting like blades.

Stop.

Concentrating harder, I fingered my ache while imagining Ashley fucking me. Then Priest appeared, pounding his magnificent length between my legs.

Confound it!

I started again. Ashley. His severe expression. That godlike body. Oh, the intensity he would bring as he moved over me, against me, inside me. My head spun with dizziness.

Priest returned, taking over the fantasy. Then they took turns, using my body forward and backward, top and bottom. So indecent. So sinful. So inconceivably good.

I worked my fingers faster, rubbing and thrusting with images of both men polluting my thoughts. I cried out as I came, my legs quivering and hips twitching through the pleasure.

Slumping onto the desk, I caught my breath. Much better.

I cleaned up and went back to work on the gown.

Hours passed. Meals arrived. I nibbled on salt fish and ship biscuits and periodically stepped onto the balcony to escape the swelter of the cabin.

Long after the sun went down, I finished the last detail on the skirt. The gown wasn’t nearly complete, but the task had effectively occupied my mind for the duration of the day.

Setting down the project, I shook out my fingers to get the blood circulating. Exhaustion weighed heavily in my bones. I was tired enough to sleep without dwelling on a jumbled tangle of blue and silver eyes.

Twenty minutes later, I lay in the dark, stretched out atop the counterpane. Brutal humidity saturated the night, but I didn’t mind the heat. It swaddled me into dreamlessness the moment I closed my eyes.

When I woke, I was drowsy, burning up, and not alone.

A beam of moonlight cut across the bed, illuminating a masculine hand on my thigh. I lay on my side, facing the wall, motionless, listening to the creaking of the ship, the roar of distant waves, and his heavy breathing.

His mouth was close, rustling the hair near my ear. Harsh breaths. Labored. He’d been touching me for a while.

The hem of the nightgown had been pushed to my hips, exposing my backside and the length of my leg. His fingers trailed up and down, delicately tracing the curve of my thigh and the dip between my buttocks. Teasing me softly. Burning me slowly.

My nipples puckered, and the muscles low in my belly clenched lazily, heatedly. It was the best torture. And the worst. If I rolled toward him and let him know I was awake, would he stop?

Please, don’t stop.

But he did. Yanking away his hand, he shifted to his back and released a tight breath. My heart thrashed in my ears as I waited, anticipating the heave of his body leaving the bed. In three…two…one…

Right on cue, he rose and treaded toward the balcony.

I understood his conflict. If he made love to me, he would no longer be putting his country before himself. A man of his stature and moral rightness didn’t bed his prisoners. I was his enemy just as he was mine.

But that line had already blurred, whether or not we consummated our forbidden desires.

I made a decision.

Quietly, I slipped from the bed and pulled off my nightgown. On silent feet, I crossed the chamber to the balcony and stood a few paces behind the lord and master.

Completely nude, he bent at the rail and stared out at the sea, the muscles contracting in his back as he sluggishly stroked himself. Defined sinews etched his biceps. Cords strained along his neck. Twin depressions dimpled the muscles above his taut arse. The sight of his glorious, battle-honed physique flooded me with need.

Then he paused.

“I know you’re there.” His voice rasped, thick with lust. “You’ve been watching me like this most nights.”

Languid, slow-burning eddies pooled in every corner of my body. I opened my mouth, yet no sound came forth.

He began to stroke anew, harder, rougher, his deep voice snapping like a whip. “Come here.”

Cautious excitement streamed through my veins, shimmering with barmy bubbles of desire.

As I padded toward Ashley’s nude back, he didn’t turn, didn’t remove his hand from that which he stroked between his legs.

Reaching for him, I ran my fingers across the tight muscles flanking his spine. His breath rushed out, and his body grew impossibly harder, stiffer. Closer, I teased my bare nipples against his back. Then my lips. My tongue.


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