She leaned forward over the table, hips tilting, her spine curving into an invitation. The ship rocked gently beneath them, but it was her slow, deliberate parting and closing of her legs that made his breath shorten. Each shift of her thighs revealed just enough, the slick shimmer catching the lanternlight, daring him to move closer.
She kept her gaze locked on him, letting her fingers drift lazily along the inner line of her thigh, tracing her own skin as if she were idly playing a harp only she could hear. She stopped just shy of the heat between her legs and let her touch wander away again, making him watch the denial. The corners of her mouth curved into a knowing smile.
"Do you want me?" she asked softly, though the answer was already written in the tautness of his jaw. His eyes were locked on her, unblinking, his breathing uneven. He didn't speak. He simply stepped forward until his knees met the table's edge, hands closing over hers to still them.
But she resisted that stillness—her fingers slipped free and wandered higher, under the hem of her skirt. She let her head tilt back slightly, eyelids lowering. The scent of her drifted toward him, warm and intoxicating. "Then take me," she murmured.
His chair scraped sharply against the wood as he rose. In two strides he was at her side, his palms sliding up the firm curve of her thighs. The heat of his hands sent shivers up her spine. She opened for him, the movement slow, calculated, her muscles brushing his wrists. He didn't hesitate—he bent in, burying his mouth between her legs, tasting her with a wild, unrestrained hunger that made her cry out.
The sound only drove him harder. His tongue pressed deep, stroking in rhythmic waves, his lips sealing around her so he could drink her in. She gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him exactly where she wanted him. The lanternlight swayed with the ship, casting gold across his cheekbones as his mouth moved against her.
Her hips rolled against his face in steady, coaxing motions, urging him deeper. Her voice was low, coaxing, broken with breath. "More… gods, don't stop…" She reached up to cup her breasts, kneading them in her hands, her thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples until she moaned at her own touch.
He shifted slightly, his teeth grazing her before his tongue plunged again. The pressure and wet heat made her thighs tremble, her head tipping back with a soft, unguarded cry. She slid one hand down to cup his cheek, her thumb tracing the edge of his jaw as if she were memorizing the shape of him.
Her breath was quick, uneven. "I want your seed growing in me… I want to feel it take root." She smiled down at him through heavy-lidded eyes, every word dripping with wicked promise. "For that… I want you to draw your cutlass deep into my oyster… and never pull it out until it wins the battle inside."
He rose without a word, his chest rising and falling, his mouth wet with her taste. In one smooth motion he scooped her into his arms, carrying her toward the bed in the corner of the cabin. She clung to him, trailing kisses along his jaw, her tongue tasting the salt of his skin.
He laid her down and leaned over her, bracing himself on his arms. She caught his lower lip between her teeth, tugging lightly before letting him go. Her legs hooked around his hips, drawing him closer, the soft friction of her heat against the hardness pressing into her making her sigh.
But she didn't let him in—not yet. Instead, she slid her palm down between them, stroking along his length in slow, teasing passes. He shuddered under her touch. "Patience," she whispered, though her own breath was coming faster now.
Her lips found his neck, her teeth grazing lightly before she sucked hard enough to leave a mark. She worked lower, across his chest, tasting the taut muscle beneath his skin. Her hand never stopped stroking him, her thumb gliding over the head in a slick circle that made his grip on her thigh tighten almost painfully.
When she finally guided him to her entrance, she paused again, letting just the tip slide in before pulling back with a sly smile. The growl in his throat told her exactly how close he was to snapping. Only then did she let him sink fully inside, the stretch making her gasp and clutch at him.
They moved together, slow at first, the rhythm almost lazy, more about savoring than consuming. Each thrust pushed a soft sound from her lips, each withdrawal making her muscles clench around him as if to keep him from leaving.
Gradually the pace quickened. Her hands roamed over his back, nails raking down the length of him as the heat between them grew unbearable. She pressed her mouth to his ear, her breath hot against his skin. "Harder," she demanded, and he obeyed without hesitation.
The cabin walls seemed to close in around them, the air heavy with the sound of their bodies meeting, the sharp scent of salt and sweat. She bit his shoulder to muffle a cry, her hips bucking against him.
He broke away suddenly, lifting her into his arms again. This time he carried her through the cabin door and out onto the deck, the cold night air biting at their flushed skin. She didn't resist. If anything, the thrill of exposure made her grin.
He set her down on the ship's rail, the black ocean yawning beneath them. Her legs parted instantly, opening for him with an urgency that matched his own. He gripped her hips and in one hard thrust buried himself inside her, drawing a gasp from deep in her throat.
The ship rocked with the rhythm of their bodies, the motion of the waves adding to the force of each stroke. The slap of flesh mingled with her cries, and the night seemed to hold its breath. She wrapped her legs around him, dragging him deeper, nails clawing at his back.
"Yes… gods, yes… don't stop," she panted, her head falling back as the moonlight traced her throat. He drove into her harder, his breath hot against her ear, his hands bruising her skin as if he meant to claim her fully.
The ocean began to heave beneath them, the waves growing taller, slamming against the hull. The timbers groaned, the sails strained in the wind. She didn't notice—or didn't care—too lost in the frenzy of his thrusts. "Fill me," she begged, "make me yours."
But just as she neared her peak, the ship lurched violently. A sudden surge of turbulence rolled beneath them, tossing the deck. Her eyes widened, instincts screaming—saltwater calling her home. Without thinking, she slipped from his grasp, diving backward into the black waves below.
Peter stood at the rail, watching her form vanish into the deep. The storm's swell eased almost instantly. He exhaled slowly, one corner of his mouth lifting in something too sharp, too knowing to be dazed submission. Then, as if nothing had happened, he turned back toward the shadows of the deck.