STORY EXCERPT

The cockney voice pierced her dreams, bringing her back to reality. Michaela opened her eyes, blinking hard. The first thing she saw was a length of scarred wooden planking underneath her cheek. Where was she?

Michaela turned her head to see the bright sun shining against the pale azure of the cloudless sky. Distantly, she heard the sound of water splashing against wood as the vessel rocked beneath her. What sort of dream was this?

She looked to her left and felt real terror surge through her. She was on some sort of old-fashioned ship outfitted with sails and rigging. Men, in various stages of dress, stood staring at her from the mid deck with lecherous eyes. What in the hell was going on? She scrambled to the safest corner of the quarterdeck. If there was ever a time to wake up, it was now!

"'Ere, now love, there's a no bein shy," said an older man, his frizzygray hair flying out all around his head. "We ain gonna hurt ye."

"This is all a dream," she whispered quietly to herself, willing the dream to go away. "I've got to wake up."

"Ye are awake, my lady." Her captor entered her haven of the quarterdeck with his wicked looking cutlass drawn and pointed at her chest. "Now, tell us how you got on our ship."

"This is a dream.” Splinters of the wooden side dug into the flesh of her back as she pushed herself harder against the side. "I'm going to wake up any time now."

"The only thing you gonna do is see the captain, missy," the old man snapped. "If'n he's in a good mood, he may not make ye walk the plank."

"Who is your captain?" she asked, trying to go along with the dream. Maybe, just maybe, it might help her to wake up.

"That would be me," issued a male voice from behind the old man. She heard his bootheels hit the quarterdeck and walk around her captor. Fear nipped at her very bones. What sort of man was their captain?

A throng of bodies parted and allowed him to come into full view. She held her breath as her heart thumped hard in her chest. "You're Captain Tristan Hamilton." She swallowed the lump growing in her throat and looked away. "Now I know this is a dream."

"Who are you and how did you get on my ship?" he boomed, his hands going to his linen breech clad hips.

She couldn't think for a minute because he was too utterly handsome for his own good. Auburn hair, streaked golden by the sun, was long and held back by a brown leather thong. Loose fitting linen wrapped around his muscular upper torso, vaguely reminding her of the pirates on some of the romance novels she'd read.

Her gaze dropped lower. His breeches, snug enough to outline his powerful thighs, tapered down into his black boots rising over his knees.

ADULT EXCERPT

Tristan reveled in the marvels of her flesh, unmarked by time or experience. The more he touched her, the more she came alive under his hands. Her body was smooth and sweet smelling and tasting. She was strong and young with her supple body. Yards of chestnut hair floated around her head like a halo, begging for him to bury his hands in the strands. He couldn’t help himself. Each time he touched her, he delighted in the emotions he evoked within her. After that first time he kissed those delicate dewy slivers, he was not only intrigued with her but hungered to possess her body and soul. Finally, his dream was on the verge of coming true.

Spreading the shirt wide, Tristan moved down lower as he tasted the sweetness of her. He stopped only to toy with her navel before moving down. Her belly, perfectly flat, was indented like an hourglass, unlike most of the women he had ever taken to bed. They had mostly been older and used up with the rigors of being a courtesan and childbearing. Michaela was neither.

He could not help but wonder about her completely. How did she come to be on his ship? Was she heaven sent to save his soul from the pits of hell? Whatever the reason for her presence, he was glad of it.

Taking her moans of ecstasy as an invitation, he loosened the tie on her breeches and pulled them down, exposing her privates to him. When she had first arrived, she had no hair but during her stay, small curls of dark hair started to appear. He grinned. He liked the smoothness but a bit of hair was just as good.

Gingerly, he parted her lips and reveled in the scent climbing up from between the delicate folds. Unable to resist the sweet perfume, he removed her breeches with quick strokes and returned, parting the slivers of delight.

With practiced movements, he ran his finger along the moist slit and dipped inside slightly, noticing the tightness. She was definitely a virgin.

Bending his head, he licked at the tiny bud between those lips and felt the flesh blossom as she cried out. Hungrily, he took the ripening nub in his mouth. His tongue danced over her core. She shivered at the feel and buried her hand in his hair. Out of instinct, she pulled him closer as her hips rose and met his every stroke. "Pl....please....Tristan," she begged in ragged breaths, "don't tease me anymore. Make love to me."

Tristan needed no further invitation. He ripped the clothes from his body as well as his weapons, tossing them aside. Passionately, he licked up the slim legs, the hair returning there as well, feeling as soft as the dew on rose petals.

"Wait, Tristan," she said breathlessly, sitting up slightly. "You've seen me so now I want to see you."

He complied with her wishes, her body crying out for him. In the golden glow of the fire, Michaela's breath caught in her chest. She didn't expect him to be so exquisite. Hard pectorals tempted her to touch the ripe flesh and appeared as though a sculptor carved him out of granite. Thick arms and shoulders comprised his upper body, tapering down to a narrow waist. Dark hair covered the apex where his hips met his thighs, his hard penis standing out from the forest of fiery red curly hair. She touched him on the already moist tip. Tristan drew a hard breath. "You do not know what you do to me, Michaela," he murmured as her hand covered him, holding him gently.

Michaela said nothing as she held him and let her thumb caress the tip. Despite the fact this would be her first sexual experience, she wasn’t frightened. It was almost as if Tristan was the man she waited for. Lowering her head, she took him into her mouth for a moment and tasted the saltiness of the tip. She reveled in the emotions she gave him in return. Her senses reached new levels the moment she felt his large hands bury in her hair and held her steady.

Just as she started to lick the shaft, Tristan withdrew from her. His retreat puzzled her. "What's wrong?"

Tristan eased her down onto the blanket. "Nothing, my dear but I will go mad if I do not make love to you this moment." He eased himself between her legs.

She welcomed him in her arms as the musky scent of their desire filled the air. "I've wanted to have sex with you as well, Tristan," she confessed. "I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow or what will become of us, but I want this night to be magical. Something I can keep with me always and a memory I can visit when the nights are cold and lonely."

"As do I." Tristan captured her lips with his and sent her body spinning to dizzying heights.

His hands traveled up and down her body before settling between her legs. Tristan teased her with his finger, diving in and out of her, making her completely wet.

Suddenly, she felt the tip of his penis nudging at her vagina, frightening her. Instinctively, she tried to close her legs, but Tristan was too quick. He stroked her legs until they fell open naturally. Wrapping them around his strong waist, Tristan nudged her again.