Jake stood outside his cabin and heard the sobs on the other side of the door. He took deep breath and released it, running his hands through his hair before looking for Toby.
The kid was up topside mopping down the gore.
"Toby!" The kid popped his head up and rushed over to Jake.
"Capt'n? Sir?" He tried to stand taller while hanging on to the mop.
"Samantha needs to be alone for a while."
"Yes Sir!"
Jake found Bilge alone at the bow scanning for their quarry. The First Mate spoke low after a bit.
"Just on the horizon ahead. Should be her."
Jake took the glass and found the faint mast off in the distance. A slight smile reached his lips and the two of them quietly planned the next step.
"And our problem?"
Bilge gave a chuckle. "Pete's back in his new home. Grabbed Donovan. Same size as Pete but with a bit more sense than him. Enough sense to be a bit hesitant, but I've convinced him that unless he wants to keep Pete company, he'll cooperate."
"And we trust him to follow through?" Jake stared off in the distance.
"Yeah."
"I have it on good authority that the documents will be as expected, in the Captain's Quarters. The rest of the plunder should cover the real reason for the attack."
Bilge nodded and grinned. "That should please the lads. When do we meet up with the Admiral?"
"Two days after that. Hand off the documents and then on home. Have you thought more about my offer?"
"Aye, that I have, Captain. Would the terms stay as is?"
"I suspect that they would. When we reach the Admiral, you go with me over to make sure. Negotiate your own terms."
Bilge gave a grin and a nod. "You sure you won't change your mind?"
"Ask me again after tomorrow," Jake grinned back. "Meanwhile, I leave preparations in your hands."
For the rest of the day Jake was on schedule, trying not to allow his thoughts to stray to the trouble brewing down in his cabin. He could cheerfully strangle Picky Pete for bringing Samantha on board. And yet, he had to admit that he couldn't get her out of his mind. Her skin so soft yet firm and warm, with that hot, moist core that gripped his cock and milked his seed.
Every morning he had left her asleep in his bunk. He would wake with her body molded to him, as if she wanted to become a part of him. His arm would be around her, not wanting to let her go. With her leg thrown over him and his hand resting on her thigh, even in sleep, he could feel the heat of her slit through the clothes she wore this morning. Right then and there he had wanted to take her. His cock had already been hard and in need of release. It would not have taken much to roll her over, slide down her pants and peel back her petals to slide in and coat his staff with her sweet nectar, to feel her warmth bring him to completion, to deposit his seed in his grey lady – his moon goddess. It had been hard to leave her sleeping, her hair tousled and lips parted. Sometimes a frown would cross her face. Maybe a dream of her past life? Once she whispered a name, but he couldn't understand what she said. Even clothed as she had been this morning, her body could still tempt him to ignore his duty and plunge his cock deep in her, stirring the passionate nature that he knew lay just below the surface.
But he did have a duty. With reluctance, he left her sleeping in the bed and did his morning ablutions. Toby was up and quietly brought in the fresh water, awaiting his orders for the day before getting the Captain's meal and then heading off to the galley for his own food. Then Jake stood beside the bunk, watching her.
Those bruises bothered him. Picky Pete had to have put them there. It took every bit of willpower to not go down to the brig and strangle him. Just looking at the bruise Pete had put on her cheek angered him. He knew that some women preferred sex a bit rough. But his woman was an innocent. She was made for the pure joy of sex. He paused, realizing what he had just thought. His woman. Yes, she was his. He wanted to protect her, to keep her just for himself. The sooner she realized it, the better.
Never before had one woman haunted him so. The thought that another man might touch her drove him to distraction. He knew he had been her first despite her unknown past and that thought somehow pleased him.
What had been her past? She had not been married nor did she have any children, for surely any husband could not resist her charms. But what of her family? She must have had one – she was basically in good health. She was not skinny nor underfed. She certainly was not fat. Her body was beautiful, tits full and firm with tasty pink nipples, narrow waist and curvy hips. Her skin was soft yet firm, and so pale that she couldn't possibly work outside in the sun. He paused, clearing his thoughts.
This next mark would be their last before Wexling. Tomorrow was when the attack was planned. He would lock Samantha in the cabin with Toby. They would just have to be safe there. Then on to Wexling. Meanwhile, there was tonight. She should be the perfect diversion. His cock twitched in anticipation.
*****
Samantha finally cried herself dry as she tried to put the bloody memory out of her mind. She had exhausted herself and lay on the bunk, resting.
"You're too tenderhearted." She heard the voice in her head. Who could have said that? She knew it had been said to her, but who had uttered those words. It was a female voice and she felt that the name was just beyond her grasp. The harder she tried to remember, the further it drifted away until all she was left with was the start of a headache, and those words. And the certainty that they had been said to her some time in her past by someone dear to her.
Just how long would her memory be missing? How long would the past be shrouded in the fog of mystery? Her dreams were lost to her too. She knew she dreamed, though the most of what passed through her mind during these somnolent periods, was lost to her, wisping away with the mist of sleep. There was only one image that seemed to stay, to reappear over and over in her mind's eye, though it made no sense. It was a pirate. He stood on the deck of his ship, long black hair, curled and shiny. Above his smirking lips was a long mustache, its waxed ends extravagantly twirling in curly ques out to the side like cat's whiskers. From his chin was a goatee, long and also curled. He wore an ornate hat, red with gold accents, leaning on his rapier with black boots crossed and an amused look on his face.
He stood there proudly in his long woolen underwear.
Who was this man, this pirate? And how could she possible know him, this man in his undergarments. It was all too embarrassing, and confusing.
She so wished she could go back to what her old way of life must have been. Maybe she had a family, a beau, a promise of a happy life. But even if that had once been true, it could no longer be. She was used goods, she berated herself. Accept it and move on. What man would want her now, now that another man had taken the one thing that was hers alone to give. Now that Jake had ravished her, had spread her legs and...