What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [94]
Oh God, I love him.
She knew it was true—because she felt both giddy and miserable when she thought about it.
But as she’d been telling herself for the past couple of days, now was not the time to brood over it. Now was the time to enjoy him—every inch of him. Do not sulk. Instead, soak him up. Take him inside you, both physically and mentally. She was simply in too deep here to run from the feelings or push them away now—her emotions were tied up intrinsically with everything else taking place at the Hotel Erotique.
Her heart was in her throat by the time anchors were dropped over the sides of the ship. And wow, it was just hitting her that the resort had its own real, full-size Spanish galleon! A moment later, a smaller rowboat was lowered to the water for bringing the passengers—in this case, her pirate!—to shore.
The galleon was anchored far enough away that she couldn’t clearly see the smaller vessel’s inhabitants until it came bounding over the waves breaking just off the beach. And then her heart really did flip-flops in her chest. Oh my. The boat held three hot, sexy men all in pirate garb, and one of them was indeed Brent. She rose to go meet them as the rowboat glided up onto the sand, and soon all three pirates marched toward her.
Brent wore a long navy blue captain’s coat, no shirt underneath, with historically accurate-looking breeches and leather knee boots. A strip of red cloth was tied around his head and he sported a day’s dark stubble on his chin; a long dagger hung from his belt as he strode up the beach with authority. And mmm, Brent did pirate very well.
She barely even looked at the two men flanking him, but as they grew close, she recognized the long-haired one as dangerous Zack from the dungeon and was pretty sure she’d seen the other—with dark, messy hair and a profusion of muscles—somewhere here, but she couldn’t quite place him.
Only once they got close enough to make eye contact, however, did Jenna remember that they were pirates and that, in terms of the fantasy, she probably shouldn’t be tramping so happily toward them. Unless . . . “Have you come to rescue me?” she asked hopefully, falling into her character with sudden and shocking ease.
Brent’s eyes narrowed on her darkly, and she sensed—with still more excitement—that she would soon be ravished. “What have we here?” he asked, looking downright predatory. “We come looking for treasure and get a comely wench in the bargain.” He spoke with a light pirate’s accent, and—oh boy—even that made her cunt weep with lust.
“A wench, sir?” she asked, acting offended. “I will thank you to remember you’re addressing a lady.”
Brent let out a hearty pirate’s laugh, but she could see in his eyes his true amusement over how she’d warmed to her role, even embellishing it. But the dress had told her she was surely a member of upper-class society.
“A lady, are you?” he asked, sounding insultingly skeptical.
She added more details to her persona. “Indeed, sir. I was sailing to meet my husband at his sugarcane plantation in Jamaica. He is very wealthy and will reward you handsomely for my safe delivery there.”
“Well, my lady,” he said, injecting sarcasm into the words, “be a good wench and we may consent to drop you in Jamaica, but I can’t promise you’ll be safe in our hands.”
She pressed a palm to her chest in faux shock. “Why, whatever do you mean?”
“We’ve been at sea a long while and there’s something we’re in far greater need of than gold or silver right now.”
She played dumb, but also began to act uneasy. “Well, whatever form of payment you desire, my husband will gladly give it. Name your price.”
“Our price, wench, rests between your creamy thighs.”
At this, Jenna’s pussy swelled and her breasts heaved lightly against the tight corset shoving them upward. Gasping, she feigned pure horror. “You—you cannot mean . . . to defile me.”
Brent’s gaze sparkled on her beneath the hot sun. “Depends on how you look at it, I suppose. What you call defiling we see as pleasuring. And