Chapter 7

For once, I’m the one taken by surprise.

I am not often surprised.

I am not often delighted by being surprised.

It’s like opening a present meant for someone else and finding exactly the thing you wanted all along.

Now it’s mine and now I will not give it back.

I wrap my hand around the back of the Captain’s neck, taking control, and swing him around, pressing him into an alcove where paint peels from an unmarked door. The old wood creaks.

The Captain lets out a startled gasp and I swallow the sound.

He groans a second later, his tongue finding mine. I can taste the sweetness of the rum still lingering on him.

He’s hard against me in an instant, his cock digging into the curve of my thigh.

The present is mine. I’m ready to fucking tear into the wrapping.

“Captain,” I say when his grasp on my bicep tightens like he wants to tear into me too. “If I had known killing men for you would get you so horny, I would have slaughtered a village a long time ago.”

“Shut up,” he tells me.

I laugh into him and grab him roughly between the legs.

He breaks the kiss, arches against the door, trying to get away, panting out a huff of panic now that I have him by the balls.

Fucking delightful.

“We can’t stay here,” I tell him.

There are four corpses behind us and they’re starting to make a mess of the cobblestones. The Guardwatch might not patrol this part of town with enthusiasm, but someone will happen past eventually.

The Captain nods. “Let’s go back to my room.”

I lick my lips. His eyes flare to life, following the drag of my wet tongue.

“Tell me, Captain, are you sober? Do you know what you’re asking for? Because once you have it, there is no turning back.”

“Are you insinuating you’re a drug?”

I smile showing all my sharp teeth. “I’m insinuating that once you have me, you will not be the same after.”

He snorts. “You are an arrogant prick.”

I squeeze him harder and he hisses, but there is an unmistakable answer in his cock. So the Captain likes pain as much as pleasure?

Or maybe he likes to be tested. And controlled.

“Answer the fucking question.”

“Yes,” he says quickly, then scowls at me as if he has the moment in hand. He doesn’t. He will never have control with me.

“I’m sober,” he says. “I know what I’m doing.”

But does he?

No one knows what they’re getting when they climb into my bed.

“When’s the last time you had a cock in your ass?”

He scoffs. “Why does that matter?”

“You know why.”

His expression softens with embarrassment. “It’s been a while,” he admits.

As I thought.

“I’ll go easy on you then.” I let go of his balls and he sighs with relief. “You will be panting my name by the end of the night.”