First Comes Desire. Tina Donahue
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his cheeks pockmarked. “We’re here for our share.”
Another man and then the rest demanded her flesh, everyone talking at once, each new pirate more horrible than the last.
Her legs went watery at what the coming moments would bring. No matter what Tristan had said about her never knowing anyone else’s touch, he couldn’t fight his entire crew.
She’d vowed to hate him, but didn’t, couldn’t, not even with his piracy and her belief he’d abducted Peter. Tristan could have easily raped her earlier. He’d offered marriage instead. He was a curious man, good and bad, hard yet tender. She didn’t understand the paradox, but no longer wished him dead. A distinct possibility given how these animals leered, shouted, laughed, and jostled each other.
She shrank back and grabbed his arm.
“What are you doing?” He pried her hand off. “Hope you don’t think I’m going to save you.” Laughing, he pulled her in front of him. His hands fell so heavy on her shoulders she swayed. His fingers trailed casually to her nipples. “We take a vote on who gets her first.”
Horrified, she looked over. Tristan shook her roughly, forcing her to face his men.
Her skin prickled at his unexpected betrayal, her foolishness in having believed in him after a few kisses and kind words. He’d proved he was no different from any man, caring only about himself.
Her throat ached at the painful truth, her rage mounting. “Coward.”
He pulled her into him, making certain his stiffened shaft pressed against her buttocks, letting her know the male power he’d use to bring her to her knees.
“Best you watch what you say, Miss Fletcher.” He stroked her neck.
She jerked away.
He yanked her back into him. “I say James Sullivan gets her first.”
The crew complained loudly.
A pirate wearing a bright yellow scarf on his head shoved the others away. “Why him?”
Tristan dipped his hands lower, touched her nipples, and then held tight so she couldn’t move. “He saved your necks. If not for James, we’d still be in the hold, not preparing to have our pleasure with this woman.”
Some grumbled. Most laughed, then voted James the first share with Tristan getting the next, as captain. After him, the others would draw straws to decide their turns.
The pirate with the pocked face shook his head. “Excepting for young Peter. He’s her brother.”
“That right?” This man smiled wide enough to show his rotted teeth. “Well, miss, best you not scream. If Peter was to find out how much pleasure you was bringing us, we’d have to kill him. Understand?"
Bile rose to her throat, but she nodded.
Another man, near Tristan’s height, worked his way through the others to where she stood. His hair was longer than Peter’s, dark red threaded with gold. Freckles covered his bare chest and face. He appeared slightly younger than Tristan, but wore the same hard look in his brown eyes.
“I’ll be taking her in here.” He regarded his mates. “Clear out. Now.”
The others streamed from the room.
“Enjoy yourself.” Tristan pushed Diana into James Sullivan.
She wheeled around to strike Tristan.
He caught her wrist easily and glanced over her head. “Do her well, James, so some of her fight’s gone when it’s my turn. Miss Fletcher.” He lifted her hand to his lips.
She yanked free and scratched his cheek.
He gave her a rough look. “You will regret that.” On the way out, he slammed the door, leaving her to James.
He crowded her before she could blink.
She kicked his shins, clawed his neck, and tried to ram her knee into his groin.
He tightened his arm around her waist and finally slammed her onto the mattress.
Her breath whooshed out.
He trapped her beneath him, his hand over her mouth.
She bit him hard and tasted blood.
“Goddamn.” He yanked his hand away, slapped his other one on her mouth, and pressed his lips to her ear. “Keep still, damn you. If Tristan sees one mark on you, only one, he’ll have my head. Understand?”
Diana did. Tristan wanted this first act to go smoothly so she’d be unmarked for him, yielding and meek. Like bloody hell. Still, she nodded.
James gulped air and withdrew his hand slowly.
She dug her nails into his neck.
“Damnation.” He twisted and squirmed against the scratching and her knee ramming into his inner thighs, heading for his groin. “To hell with this. You draw another drop of my blood or hit me where it truly hurts, and I’ll not help you escape.”
She stopped clawing and kicking him, though she didn’t let go of his hair. “What are you saying?” She yanked hard to make certain she got an answer. “What do you mean?”
He pulled his hair from her fists and rolled off her. Sprawled on the mattress, he stared at the ceiling. His clawed chest pumped with his rough breaths. “No one on this ship will have you, except for Tristan, of course.”
She’d been ready to kick James’s ribs. She pulled back her foot and pushed up, uncertain how to react, bombarded by too many emotions. Relief because Tristan hadn’t betrayed her after all. Shame for having doubted him. Confusion as to what this meant.
She wanted to believe Tristan’s decision to trick the men went beyond carnal desire. He’d begun to like her as a woman and person. Good sense told her he probably didn’t want any man taking her before he did, his pride not allowing such a thing.
Hopelessly confused, she squeezed her fists so much they hurt. “He wants me for himself? Like bloody hell.”
“My duty’s to protect you from the crew, not from Tristan. With him, you’re on your own. Though I would advise you not to fight your husband. It ain’t right. It surely ain’t natural.”
“I’m not wedding him.”
“You are. Quit resisting what’s going to be, whether you want it or not. Tristan’s bringing Peter down here as we speak. When the time’s right, we’ll leave the ship.”
“Why are you helping him?”
“Tristan?” James smiled. “He’s my friend. Even if he wasn’t, he saved my life. I’ll owe him forever.”
Diana lifted her face. Footfalls and loud laughter sounded from the main deck. The pirates possibly drinking as they had on the beach, egged on by Tristan.
He’d saved James’s life, yet earlier Tristan had said the man had done the same for him. “How did he save you?”
James spit on his fingers and wiped blood off his chest. “No time to get into it now.”
“Then how did you save Tristan? He told me you had.”
“He would. That’s the kind of man he is.” Finished with cleaning his chest, James grabbed her arm.
She pulled back. “What are you doing?”
“Checking for marks.” He shoved up her sleeve, studied her forearm, and nodded. After examining her other arm, he tugged her shirt over her right shoulder, exposing her breast to the edge of her nipple.
She squirmed away. “Stop it.”
“Quiet. You want the others to come in here to watch?”
“No, only Tristan so he can see what you’re doing.”
James’s