Chapter 9

Killian was feeling remiss. He'd been in such a hurry to claim the woman who had been haunting his dreams, to feel himself inside her, that he hadn't taken the time to appreciate her the way he had wanted to. The moon still hung high above the horizon, its reflection fragmenting on the gentle waves in the harbor. They had half the night remaining to them. It wasn't enough.

He looked down at her form beside him, sleeping and unclothed. He watched the gentle rise and fall of the soft swell of her breasts as her breathing whispered across his throat. Her creamy skin bore no ink, he saw. Tattoos were lucky for sailors. Perhaps he should convince her to illustrate herself if she was going to stay aboard. Maybe he'd ask her to permanently etch on the mark he'd left on her shoulder. He smiled at the thought, bending his neck to kiss the spot.

She stirred against his chest. This woman who craved freedom as he did hadn't squirmed at the sight of his severed arm, nor flinched as he'd led her into battle. His kiss, on the other hand...

His hand stroked over her side, over her fading bruises. They looked so out of place on someone who seemed so invulnerable. He should take over her swordplay lessons, he thought. He could teach her how to dodge better than any man in the crew. He could do it without hurting her. Though he wouldn't be having her join him on any raiding sorties, it was vital that she learned how to defend herself, but he didn't want to see her ivory skin marred. Perhaps he should reconsider that tattoo.

He traced the tip of his nose up her neck until he could feel her pulse against his lips below her ear. "Emma, darling." He whispered. His fingers trailed over the sharp line of her hipbone. "Wake."

She hummed happily, but her eyes did not open.

He nipped at her earlobe. "Are you dreaming, love?"

At last, she revealed the green oases of her eyes. They were fogged with sleep and heavy-lidded."I think so," she murmured.

"Dreaming of me?" He crooned into her neck.

"You're here, aren't you?" The note in her voice was absolutely sinful, and he felt himself stiffen.

"Aye." He agreed gutturally. "That I am." His hand slipped down through the triangle of soft curls between her legs, and parted her lower lips, finding the bead at her center. He teased the bundle of nerves with his fingertip and she gasped. Already feeling her wetness, he groaned, hardening more. He began stroking between her folds as his thumb rolled over her nub.

In mere moments, she was arching on top of him, beautiful, ragged little breaths tearing from her lips. He rolled her onto the mattress, freeing his arm carefully, turning the point of his hook away from her lovely skin. He pressed himself down on her, feeling every curve of her slender body laid out beneath him. He let her feel his length against her most sensitive spot before one, then two fingers slipped into her opening. Starting at the base of her neck, he kissed at her bruises, laving his tongue over each of the marks and working his way down.

She released a keening moan as his fingers twisted and continued to piston inside of her. It was music to Killian's ears. The last bruise he found was on the top of her hip, and he gently raked his teeth over the healing discoloration. He placed one more kiss beneath her navel before he tasted her. She was sweet, and smoky, and intoxicating, like the darkest spiced rum. He groaned.

Her hands tangled in his hair at the back of his head, urging him on desperately. He relished the sounds she made as he sent her careening over the edge with both his mouth and his fingers. Her nails dug into his neck as her thighs shook at his ears. Killian chuckled as he eased her back down from her bliss.

Sitting up, she reached beneath his arms and pulled him up to her. His lips locked on hers as he lowered her back to the bed. Her legs wrapped around his thighs as her hips shifted up to meet his. Taking himself by the base, he lined himself up right at her opening and began to draw wicked little circles. She squirmed deliciously, trying to take him inside of her, but he held himself back. It was too good, watching her writhe in need of him.

"Please, Killian," she begged. "Please."

"Please what?" He taunted. "What would you like me to do, Emma? Say the word."

"Fuck me, Killian. Just fuck me."

"As you wish," he whispered against her lips. He obliged suddenly and completely, filling her with one punishing thrust. She called out his name and he grinned fiercely as he took her hard and slow. His hand moved faster at her center, in a way that sent her quickly over the edge. He felt her inner walls shudder and squeeze around his cock, and he almost lost it right then, but he was determined to make her fall apart for him just one more time.

Quickening his pace, he pushed her knees open and up, groaning as the new position of her hips allowed him even deeper within her. Her hands grabbed at his arse, guiding him as she jerked up to meet his every motion. "Come for me, Emma." He demanded as his thumb found her bead again. "Let me hear you say my name."

Her jaw clenched down, resisting the temptation to obey, and the flames inside him surged. His hips pounded harder into hers, the ministrations of his fingers growing rougher. He heard her whimper softly before she finally gave in, calling his name out into the night at the very top of her lungs. He was sure the sound crept aboard every vessel in the harbor, waking every sleeper. He didn't care. She was his.

This time, he came with her, his whole body tensing before he went slack.

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He roused her once more before the sun breached the skies. He claimed her again, gently and lazily, before warning her that the crew would likely be returning soon. He watched the process of her dressing from the comfort of his bed, admiring the hardy way she bore the obvious discomfort of her bindings. Reluctantly, he clothed himself as well.

Together, he and Emma broke their fast at his table, feasting on the food that had been meant for the night before. Part of him was tempted to dismiss his entire crew and stay hidden below deck with Emma for as long as he could, but it wasn't safe for her here. They had to sail south, out of Queen Regina's kingdom, and the Jolly Roger needed more hands than theirs to operate her lines.

When they heard footsteps above them, she scurried out of his cabin, blushing after one final kiss. A heel banged on the hatch, followed by Connors' voice. "Permission to enter, Captain?" Ever the dutiful first mate, he'd been the first one to return.

"Granted," Hook called up to him as he lowered himself into his chair.

Connors' eyes drifted over the scene once he'd reached the bottom of the ladder. The captain couldn't help but wear a cocky smirk as Connors reacted to the half-eaten tray of food, the rustled sheets, and the captain's easy posture. "You enjoy your night off, sir?"

"Thoroughly. What can I do for you, Mr. Connors?" His tone made it clear that he would not be answering any more questions about the prior evening's activities, and Connors snapped to attention.

"Just wondering what your orders were, Captain."

"We're to set sail this morning. We head south."

Connors nodded dutifully, though there was askance in his eyes. The Jolly Roger did not often sail in southern waters, but the first mate knew better than to question his command. His gaze dropped to the table, perhaps in search of a map that may have been left out to indicate their heading. What he saw instead was Emma's wanted poster. Too late, Killian grabbed for it and rolled it up.

"Who is that?" Connors asked, unable to restrain himself.

Hook scowled. "Just a pretty face." He lied.