Amethyst Rapture. Fey Suarez
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who’d left it there.
Sheila would be grateful to see him. He knew it. His manhood swelled with anticipation as he neared his quarters. The captain opened the door and his eyes grew wide. He’d arrived in time to watch the cabin boy fucking his woman. Jaime pumped himself into Sheila and she shrieked with delight.
“Harder,” she screamed. She had her hands on Jaime’s buttocks, pinching and scratching his cheeks until they were red. Sheila pushed him harder, faster.
Carlos strode to the bed, his head now clear, and yanked the lad from Sheila’s ravenous sex. A milky substance shot from him and landed on Sheila’s stomach, chest and chin.
Sheila opened her eyes. Charles had Jaime in a firm grip. “Why’d you do that?” she demanded, and rested the heel of her had on her mons. She was too excited to stop.
“You’re mine,” Carlos said.
“Get out,” he told Jaime. He didn’t blame the poor boy. Sheila would seduce a monk if she had five minutes alone with him.
“I’m a whore,” Sheila said, closing her eyes to concentrate on her own pleasure. “I was when you met me and I will be until I die.”
“You’re my whore,” Carlos growled.
“I don’t belong to anyone.” Her lower body spasmed and she moaned. Languidly she opened her eyes.
Carlos was acutely aware of his own sex pulsing in his pants. His engorged shaft was throbbing for release. She was wet and he could slip in and out of her, but he ignored the urge. Instead, Carlos picked up Sheila’s clothes and threw them to her. “Get dressed,” he ordered. “I’m going to take care of you once and for all.”
Sheila felt a ripple of fear run down her spine. She’d seen the horrors Carlos was capable of but had assumed he’d never hurt her. It was his fault. If he hadn’t left her with the cabin boy nothing would have happened. He should have taken her ashore with him.
Sheila wiped Jaime’s juices from her body with the sheet and quickly dressed in her masculine trousers and loose-fitting shirt.
She’d put on the left boot and was putting on the other when Carlos dragged her across the room. He pulled her through the dark hall, up the stairs and across the deck. Sheila hopped up the steps on one foot, tugging at the right boot until it slipped into place. Carlos pointed to the rope ladder. “Climb down.”
Is he going to throw me to the sharks? Sheila had seen Carlos mercilessly throw Spanish mariners to the sharks for fun.
“Go.” Carlos pushed her. “Into the rowboat.”
Sheila saw the dinghy waiting at the bottom of the ladder.
“Vamos!” Carlos pushed her again.
Sheila carefully climbed down the rope ladder with Carlos right behind her. “Back to shore,” he ordered the young oarsman.
Ashore, Carlos paid the boy a coin and pulled Sheila from the skiff. He strode down the cobblestone street, pulling her in tow.
“Where are we going?” Sheila dared ask.
“I’ve warned to keep your petticoats where they belong, yet I find you time and again with men huffing and puffing between your legs. It won’t happen again.”
Sheila was too frightened to mention that she’d never worn a petticoat. Carlos yanked her down a dark alley. It reeked of rotting animals and human waste. Sheila looked into darkened windows, heard the wails of a young child. A woman screamed. God protect me, she thought.
Carlos pulled Sheila through a low doorway. An ancient black woman with wiry gray hair was seated in the center of the room. Shadows danced along the back wall. Dried plants and flowers hung from the ceiling. Jars of unidentifiable objects lined shelves along one wall. A fire with large chunks of incense burned brightly, giving off a pungent odor.
“I was waiting for you.” the woman said hoarsely. Sheila gasped at the woman’s bluish-white cataract-covered eyes.
“You know why I’ve come?” Carlos asked.
“Your woman is too hot. You want to cool down her sexual appetite.”
“I enjoy her sexual appetite,” Carlos responded. “I just don’t want her to fuck anyone but me.”
“Ah.” The wrinkled grin showed a mouth full of rotten teeth.
The bruja stood and walked around the room, taking pieces of plants, opening jars and extracting unidentifiable animal parts. At least, Sheila thought, Carlos wasn’t going to kill her.
“Is she worth it? This is expensive.” The bruja picked up a purple stone the size of a walnut.
Carlos nodded. “How much?”
“Fifty livre.”
“If you can guarantee she’ll be mine I consider it money well spent.”
The witch sat back down in front of the fire. She put everything in one hand and began mumbling to herself. Her voice increased in volume as she chanted. She threw the gem in the fire of burning incense. It began to glow a darker purple. The chanting turned into howling. The woman put a hand on Sheila and threw herbs into the fire on top of the amethyst.
Sheila screamed and fell to the ground. Silence filled the small room.
“What did you do?” Carlos asked.
“She’s all yours,” the old woman said and reached into the fire for the stone. “She was hot-blooded.” She handed the amethyst to Carlos. “Her desire is in this stone. Whenever you need to fulfill your carnal desires, let her hold this. As long as she touches it, her desire will run hot. If she isn’t touching it, she’ll be as chaste as a nun.”
Carlos counted coins into the old woman’s hand. “Don’t let any other woman touch this stone,” the bruja warned. It won’t affect men, but if a woman holds this stone she’ll have her desire combined with that of your puta.”
Carlos stood up and pocketed the amethyst. Sheila was still unconscious on the floor. Carlos slung her over his shoulder and silently left.
Chapter Two
Every crew member had a hangover, but after a night of sex and debauchery they were too satisfied to complain. During the evening, Raul had overheard tales of an injured Spanish galleon laden with cargo. It had been damaged during rough weather and was being repaired in the Bay of Jagua, Cuba. The best time to attack a galleon was when it was crippled. As soon as the crew was rounded up, Venganza set sail.
Sheila woke with a pounding headache and was surprised to find herself fully clothed. Even when she was unconscious from drink Carlos usually took her. Sheila felt she should be insulted that he hadn’t screwed her, but she wasn’t.
Sheila felt oddly out of place when she walked on deck and past the crew members busy at their various tasks. She didn’t sway and flaunt herself. She tried not to look straight at any of the men.
“They chose the Bay of Jagua because it’s going to be difficult,” she heard Carlos say. “Governor Cienfuegos will be at the fortress at the mouth of the bay. He has never lost.”
“Carlos,” Sheila said.
Carlos looked up but didn’t respond. “We arrive tonight. We’ll stop farther along the coast, here.” He pointed to a map. “I’ll take several men with me and we will scout things out.”
“I heard Cienfuegos left to help out after a dispute with the natives on the mainland,” said one of his men.
“That’s great. It’ll be easier to capture a lame ship.” Carlos scratched his nose and looked up. “Sheila, go below decks.”
How dare he talk to me like that? Sheila’s temper flared as she strode away.
* * *
Carlos