A knock at the door had gone primarily unnoticed at first, only making it through her haze-filled brain when it grew in volume. Addy pushed herself up onto shaky arms, staring at the thin barrier between them and the outside world.

Charles growled with disapproval but spoke. She didn’t have the strength.

“What?” he barked out.

The door opened, and in stepped Jack. He spotted them in an instant, spinning on his heel to look away, though standing in profile to the pair. There’d been no point in trying to avoid the two of them or what they were doing. Given the man had knocked seconds after they’d come, she assumed he’d been standing outside listening.

“Can’t this wait?” he asked in a rough voice.

Delight at his tone trickled down her spine. She clenched her pussy and giggled a little at his grunting response.

“Apologies, but there hardly seems a time when the two of you are together in which you aren’t fucking.” Jack flashed a short, insincere smile.

Charles, breathing heavily and undoubtedly tired, sat back on his knees. His hand trailed up and down the length of her back, drawing Addy closer. She sat up, too, bracing herself against her own knees to better see Jack and the room.

Neither of them was in the mood for whatever the man had to say, so she prayed he would hurry up.

“Speak,” Charles said. His hands came to rest on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh.

Jack let out a scoff, turning to face the pair head-on with a coy, albeit sarcastic smirk on his lips.

“Forgive me, but perhaps we should wait until you aren’t inside Miss Cromwell first, hmm?”

Her husband sucked on his teeth in displeasure and tapped her hip gently. She rose off of him, hating every moment of it. The emptiness that followed their separation was one she hadn’t developed immunity to.

She fell onto her back along the foot of the bed, stretching out and allowing her joints to pop in a few places. Content for the moment, yet annoyed at the same time, Addy hadn’t bothered shielding herself in front of Jack. It was far from the first time he’d walked in on them and likely far from the last.

Charles crawled to the head of the bed, leaning against the wall. He tugged a bit of the blanket along with him, though just enough to shield his dick and little else. With his knee propped up, he rested his forearm against it and retrieved one of her thin cigars from the bedside table.

“This had better be worth it,” he said, speaking around the object clamped between his teeth. He struck a match and pressed the flame to the tip. “Otherwise, I’m going to be very put out.”

His choice of words brought a smile to her. There was something threatening about them, something dastardly.

He drew in a long breath, then exhaled a thick cloud of smoke that wafted through the air. Jack continued to linger, his hands on his narrow hips, while he stared at his captain.

“I’ve been making inquiries in regard to the Mirage.”

Charles shrugged a shoulder. “Fuck’s that?”

Jack, barely able to contain his smug pride, arched a brow and grinned. “The ship that attacked us.”

Every muscle in Charles’s body tightened.