left.
“Yes?”
“I know I said I wanted you to kiss me again, but I wasn’t myself, and…”
“I’m not holding you to anything you said while drunk, Miss Thatch.”
His kiss had made her belly burn and her heart race. It also left her with a sketchy memory. “Was there something else I asked?”
“No.” A strange sadness shone in his eyes.
She frowned, relegating her vivid dreams to wishful thinking. Obviously, as they’d recently met, he’d have no cause or interest in taking care of her forever as she had imagined him saying.
“I had to land the ship and fix a broken cogwheel, but I’m going to check the wind and take us back up in the sky,” he told her. “Do you want to come and watch?”
Abigail looked at her bare feet.
“No shoes required.” He smiled.
She hated to be conventional. His never-shocked attitude appealed to her.
Jasper Blackthorn was bad for her in so many ways, and yet she couldn’t help feeling he was someone she needed in her life.
Jasper scratched his jaw and watched Abigail parade across the deck in her bare feet. She cut a fine figure in the red-and-white striped skirt and her brass corset. Even as she sashayed away from him, he spotted those small reminders of what he remembered of her as a child. The carefree disregard for propriety and the untroubled way she did as she pleased. The eagerness in her demeanor had shaped a youthful girl. He never imagined that when she reached adulthood, she’d retain those charming attributes.
“Shall I throw the piece of wood in now?” She climbed the steps to the quarterdeck.
He followed, looking at her slight ankles.
She whirled around at the top of the ladder. “Are you looking up my skirt?”
On the middle tread of the steps, he stood eye level with her feet. “I am,” he confessed, giving her a grin. “And it’s a wonderful sight, me beauty.”
She squatted down. Her skirt bunched on the floor, hiding her bare legs.
“It will take a lot more than charm to get under this.” She slid her hand slowly over the formed breast of the brass corset.
He took a breath and reached out, grabbing her leg beneath her skirt.
“Oh!” she squealed, plopping down on her bottom.
He remained on the steps and caressed her foot. “I can have you out of all you wear any time I choose.” He stroked around her ankle, up her calf and all the way to the sensitive area behind her knee.
Abigail blushed. He liked the crimson tint darkening her cheeks. It allowed him to think of the wide-eyed stare as the innocence of a virgin. Not a sound of protest passed her lips. Her eyes darkened, threatening danger or professing desire.
He grasped her other leg and tugged her forward. “Deny you want me to seduce you,” he challenged, pushing his hands higher.
The backs of her supple thighs tensed. He caressed upward, over her knickers, around her hips, then down, raking the undergarment with the intent to remove it. Her sitting position obstructed his effort. Her quietness halted him.
“Tell me to ravish you, me beauty.” He drew back and swirled small circles over her bare knee. “All it takes is one word from your sweet lips.”
“No.” Her voice trembled with an indecisive tone.
“Are you sure?” He ventured back up, between her slightly parted legs, and rubbed the crotch area of her knickers.
“Y-yes,” she stammered.
“Is that a yes to stop, or a—”
“Yes.”
“Or a yes to continue?” He pressed the thin cotton between the lips of her vulva.
“Please,” she whimpered as her head tipped back.
He stroked the fabric, and knew when she shuddered that he had hit a sensitive region. Unrelenting, he stepped up another rung on the ladder. He maneuvered his hand over the damp fabric and hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of her knickers.
“Captain, please.” Abigail’s hips lifted as he palmed her mound.
Her legs fanned out, opening her. He brushed the dampened patch of tight curls and slid his finger into the
“Yes?”
“I know I said I wanted you to kiss me again, but I wasn’t myself, and…”
“I’m not holding you to anything you said while drunk, Miss Thatch.”
His kiss had made her belly burn and her heart race. It also left her with a sketchy memory. “Was there something else I asked?”
“No.” A strange sadness shone in his eyes.
She frowned, relegating her vivid dreams to wishful thinking. Obviously, as they’d recently met, he’d have no cause or interest in taking care of her forever as she had imagined him saying.
“I had to land the ship and fix a broken cogwheel, but I’m going to check the wind and take us back up in the sky,” he told her. “Do you want to come and watch?”
Abigail looked at her bare feet.
“No shoes required.” He smiled.
She hated to be conventional. His never-shocked attitude appealed to her.
Jasper Blackthorn was bad for her in so many ways, and yet she couldn’t help feeling he was someone she needed in her life.
Jasper scratched his jaw and watched Abigail parade across the deck in her bare feet. She cut a fine figure in the red-and-white striped skirt and her brass corset. Even as she sashayed away from him, he spotted those small reminders of what he remembered of her as a child. The carefree disregard for propriety and the untroubled way she did as she pleased. The eagerness in her demeanor had shaped a youthful girl. He never imagined that when she reached adulthood, she’d retain those charming attributes.
“Shall I throw the piece of wood in now?” She climbed the steps to the quarterdeck.
He followed, looking at her slight ankles.
She whirled around at the top of the ladder. “Are you looking up my skirt?”
On the middle tread of the steps, he stood eye level with her feet. “I am,” he confessed, giving her a grin. “And it’s a wonderful sight, me beauty.”
She squatted down. Her skirt bunched on the floor, hiding her bare legs.
“It will take a lot more than charm to get under this.” She slid her hand slowly over the formed breast of the brass corset.
He took a breath and reached out, grabbing her leg beneath her skirt.
“Oh!” she squealed, plopping down on her bottom.
He remained on the steps and caressed her foot. “I can have you out of all you wear any time I choose.” He stroked around her ankle, up her calf and all the way to the sensitive area behind her knee.
Abigail blushed. He liked the crimson tint darkening her cheeks. It allowed him to think of the wide-eyed stare as the innocence of a virgin. Not a sound of protest passed her lips. Her eyes darkened, threatening danger or professing desire.
He grasped her other leg and tugged her forward. “Deny you want me to seduce you,” he challenged, pushing his hands higher.
The backs of her supple thighs tensed. He caressed upward, over her knickers, around her hips, then down, raking the undergarment with the intent to remove it. Her sitting position obstructed his effort. Her quietness halted him.
“Tell me to ravish you, me beauty.” He drew back and swirled small circles over her bare knee. “All it takes is one word from your sweet lips.”
“No.” Her voice trembled with an indecisive tone.
“Are you sure?” He ventured back up, between her slightly parted legs, and rubbed the crotch area of her knickers.
“Y-yes,” she stammered.
“Is that a yes to stop, or a—”
“Yes.”
“Or a yes to continue?” He pressed the thin cotton between the lips of her vulva.
“Please,” she whimpered as her head tipped back.
He stroked the fabric, and knew when she shuddered that he had hit a sensitive region. Unrelenting, he stepped up another rung on the ladder. He maneuvered his hand over the damp fabric and hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of her knickers.
“Captain, please.” Abigail’s hips lifted as he palmed her mound.
Her legs fanned out, opening her. He brushed the dampened patch of tight curls and slid his finger into the
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