PotC Fic: A Green Isle in the Sea, NC-17
Title: A Green Isle in the Sea
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: J/E
Word Count: 4,202
Disclaimer: The Mouse Owns All
A/N: At last, a response to the hseas_challenge erotica prompt. Set post-CotBP, Elizabeth and Jack meet on Port Royal. Blatant, unapologetic PWP. Feedback adored, as always!
Port Royal squatted beneath a sultry sky, baked blue by a liquid sun. The heat sucked every breath from the air and, unbound though she was, Elizabeth found herself choking once more. Home was gone now, razed by a force more ruthless than the Black Pearl’s guns, for though the place wherein she had spent her formative years remained standing, Elizabeth knew that her restless heart would never more find shelter here.
Though she tried for the sake of her father to conform once more to life she had previously lived, it was impossible to pretend that all was as it was. She had seen too much now and her world had shifted, while here in the parlours and ballrooms, in pristine gardens and immaculate promenades, the doyenne defenders of English decorum raised their parasols against the harsh face of the outside world. They had not seen dead men walk, nor had they felt their lifeblood quicken in the heat of battle. For Elizabeth however, the mask of virginal docility had been lifted from her face and the world had been shown to her with a clarity that was breathtaking. Now she had returned to discover that the strictures of polite society were far more suffocating than whalebone and lace. Always, she would find herself longing for salt water spray and sun-gilded horizons.
There were times when she wanted nothing more than to speak of it with someone who had been there, someone who knew. But even during their most intimate moments - and of those there had been many since their return - Will was tight-lipped when it came to their pirate adventure and she had long since desisted from mentioning the subject. His journey, she understood, had been different from hers, for she had not found herself with a cursed pirate father, or a blood legacy that offended every principle for which she stood. Elizabeth did not think that a time would ever come when Will would embrace his connection to the sea.
So instead she sought refuge elsewhere. For one hour a week, her father allowed her a modicum of freedom, although when she told him what she intended on doing with that free hour, he had almost changed his mind.
“Young ladies do not go unaccompanied to the market, Elizabeth. It is simply not done. Think of your reputation, child.”
“I shall not be unaccompanied, father. Estrella will be with me. Furthermore I think my reputation was tainted beyond repair as soon as I set foot onboard the Black Pearl. You do not frequent ladies parlours for coffee afternoons, father, and so have not heard the whispers, which for some reason they think raised fans will prevent me from overhearing.” Her father had frowned at that and she wondered how a statesman could be so naïve when it came to the politics of the parlour; she almost thought it a shame to bare to him such ugly truths, but he must be made to realise what his daughter had now become in the eyes of others. “The men of His Majesty’s navy gossip like scullery maids, father, and there is scarce a family in all of Port Royal who does not now know of the scandalous night your daughter spent on an island with a notorious pirate. How can a fallen woman such as I be expected to rejoin polite society?”
As she’d spoke her father’s alarm had deepened. “But nothing untoward happened, Elizabeth. You assured me.” The statement was almost a question.
She sighed. “No, father, nothing happened. But those simpering pigeons act as if it was a surety that Jack Sparrow had his way with me.” She said nothing of their flushed chests and faces, or their thinly veiled excitement, as they asked breathless questions about what had taken place that night. It was tempting almost to make something up, and shock them with images that would have them reaching beneath the covers on hot, sleepless nights. Jack would approve of such an endeavour, she’d thought with a smile.
But she had made up no such stories and instead contented herself with small rebellions, such as today’s outing. Port Royal’s dockside market was a glut of heady scents, lush characters and vibrant language. What guile and artifice existed here was intended as such, as vendor’s plied their wares with showmanship and ingenuity, and Elizabeth would always throw herself into the game with much aplomb.
“Take a look at this silk, love. Shilling a yard. Same silk as favoured by the Queen of Italy. Sent her a bolt just last week, as it ‘appens. Just the thing for a fine lady like yerself.” The market trader unfurled the poorly woven material, which was most definitely not silk, and Elizabeth held it up to the light, while Estrella flirted with a nearby oyster seller whose stall was a basket slung around his neck.
“The Queen of Italy you say.” Elizabeth pursed her lips as if considering this impressive testimonial. “Quite the recommendation. However to my mind the only thing more fictitious than your clientele would be the worms who spun this so-called silk.”
The vendor raised his eyes in mock offence at this slur on his good name, then when it was apparent that he’d have no custom from her, he gave Elizabeth a grin and a wink and began calling over her head, trying to tempt other prospective buyers to his stall.
Turning towards the oyster seller, Elizabeth found that he was now alone. She scanned the crowd, but could see not a glimpse of her maid. At first she was merely annoyed; if her father discovered that she had been left unaccompanied at any time, he would not hesitate in withdrawing his permission for these weekly outings. She pushed her way through the busy market, cursing Estrella as she did so, but as time passed and she did not appear, Elizabeth irritation turned into alarm.
She slid her hand inside her reticule, fingers curling around the small knife within, a letter opener purloined from the father’s desk; though she loved the atmosphere of the market, she was not so foolish as to think she would never have cause to defend herself. The crowd was thinning now and the market stalls had come to an end, and still Estrella did not show. Elizabeth pressed herself against the row of shops and houses that lined one side of the street, certain now that some danger lurked close by. She should return home, she knew, but it was unconscionable that she should leave without Estrella, for who knew what might become of the girl if she did not find her?
So intent was she on keeping her eyes fixed on the street, that she didn’t notice how the wall had ended and there was nothing but air at her back. Only when an arm snaked out and grabbed her around her middle did she realise her error. She dropped her reticule, keeping the knife gripped in her hand, but her arms were pinned to her sides and the weapon was useless. Elizabeth was pulled backward into the shadow of the alley, a hand across her mouth cutting off her scream.
“Easy, Lizzie, easy,” breathed a familiar voice in her ear. “Hope it’s just letters you intend on opening with that pointy thing in your hand.”
Elizabeth froze and the knife clattered to the ground. The grip around her middle eased and she spun to face Jack Sparrow. “Jack! What are you doing here? Are you insane?” A mix of fear, elation and sheer anger waged war in her head and belly at the sight of him, all vibrant colour and deep shadow, as if cut from a richer cloth than the squalid backdrop of a Port Royal alley. She cast a quick look over her shoulder and pulled him around the corner into a narrow cul-de-sac filled with empty crates, out of sight of any curious passers-by who might have no qualms in notifying the nearest redcoat of Captain Sparrow’s return to Jamaica.
“Insanity’s subjective, Lizzie. Some might call it insane for a pretty young lass to be sauntering unaccompanied along thoroughfares which are less than respectable. And armed at that. If not insane then certainly less than decorous.” He drew his eyes down her figure then back up to her face. “Any scoundrel might happen upon you.”
She rolled her eyes. “I had a maid.”
“Oh?” He raised his brow. “And where might this alleged maid be now, eh?”
“She… I was talking to…” Elizabeth broke off and narrowed her eyes. “Yes, Jack. Where is my maid?”
He grinned, bright as a blade and just as cunning. “Seems young Estelle -”
“Estrella.”
A wave of his fingers. “Yes, her. Seems she’s rather susceptible to a proffered coin and a fluttered lash. She was keen enough to clear off when I asked her.”
“She wouldn’t.”
“Oh, she would, love. Or perhaps it was the story I spun of how I craved just fifteen minutes alone with the beautiful Miss Swann, she what got me drunk and broke me poor black heart.”
Despite herself, Elizabeth laughed. “You didn’t tell her that.”
“I did, although she seems to think the truth of the matter somewhat different.”
“Oh yes?”
“Oh yes. Young Esther -”
“Estrella.”
“Quite. Well, she tells me you ain’t stopped talking about me since you got home.”
“Jack!” He ducked away with a grin as she swatted him on the shoulder, but Elizabeth couldn’t stop herself from colouring. She hadn’t talked about him that much.
“So not true then?”
“Not a word.”
“Shame.”
Silence fell then, and Elizabeth realised that, as they’d been speaking, Jack had advanced, so that now her back was against the wall of the cul-de-sac. He leaned in, one hand resting on the wall just above her shoulder. “So,” she said, and cursed the hoarseness of her voice, “fifteen minutes.”
Jack nodded, that sly grin appearing once more.
“Doesn’t give you a whole lot of time. I’m not sure whether I should take umbrage that you wouldn’t spare the coin to buy half an hour with me.”
“Oh, love, a lot can be accomplished in fifteen minutes.”
Don’t ask don’t ask don’t ask.
“Like what?”
He started at that, as if he had not expected his innuendo to meet with such a response, and for a moment it seemed that he was floundering for an answer. Then he swallowed. “Could show you,” he said, as if amazed that events might be taking this turn. He placed his other hand upon the wall.
Elizabeth let her head drop back against the hard brick, exposing her throat, and she wondered if he could see the pulse that fluttered there. This really was insanity, and a flicker of fear worked its way from her stomach to her chest as she realised the dangerous road they were headed down. She should put a stop to this while it was still just talk.
Jack’s hand left wall, his fingers trailing down her neck, across her collar bone, over the hint of her décolletage. They danced a path down her bodice and came to rest on her waist. “Do you remember how I stripped you of this before? Do you remember how I cut you loose?”
“I was starved of breath and close to drowning. I remember a shadow, a ghost, nothing more.”
“Perhaps that’s all you need me to be.”
“I need…” But her breath caught and she couldn’t finish, because Jack was plucking at her skirts, gathering them in his fist.
“We have ten minutes left, Lizzie. What do you need?”
“Jack…”
“Tell me.”
She could feel the air swirl about her exposed calves, cool after the hot weight of her skirts. There were so many reasons this was wrong, reasons she should push him away and run home to the mansion without looking back. There was propriety and virtue. There was honour. There was Will. But she knew that none of those things would make her put an end to this. “We are in the street.”
“Nine. And not quite the street. Tell me what you need.” He pressed a kiss to her neck and suddenly it was too much. She moved, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him forward until their foreheads touched, while her other hand reached for his breeches, feeling the hardness there. Evidently such a move was not expected. “Oh fuck, Lizzie…”
She gasped and then smiled at his reaction, the obscenity on his lips making desire pulse low in her belly. “Not good?” she asked, though she knew that it was.
“Oh, good, love. Most definitely good. But almost didn’t need the full time allotted to us there. Warn me before you try a move that might have me shooting me fetch in me own breeches, eh?”
“Say that word again.”
“What word?” She pressed the ball of her palm down the hard ridge in his breeches and he cursed once more.
“That one.”
“Ah, like it do you? Like to hear me talk like that?” She nodded and he leaned in to press a kiss to the hollow of her throat, before whispering, “There are other words too, Lizzie. Words only suited to a dissolute villain like meself. Words like cock...” He pressed a kiss to the side of her mouth. “And quim…” A sweep of tongue along her parted lips. “Me mouth is as filthy as me soul, love.” She groaned, feeling heat flood between her thighs. He was dark sin and impossible longing, and she hungered for both. Hands grasped her buttocks and she realised he’d drawn her skirts up again, until she was almost naked and pressed against him. “Can feel you now, Lizzie. Can feel how much you crave it.”
“Jack?”
“Mm?” His hands, kneading her flesh, pulling and grasping.
She moved closer, whispering against his lips. “Give me your cock.”
“Jesus…” With frantic fumbling, he undid his breeches, and she bit her lip as he sprang free. She reached for him, but he grabbed her wrist and held her hand up to her face. “Let me show you how to make it sweeter, Lizzie. Lick your palm.” When she complied, moistening her hand from wrist to finger tip, he brought her hand down and wrapped it around his length, which swelled even more as she stroked; she relished the way his soft skin slid back and forth over the steel within.
His eyes were heavy lidded as he moved his hips with slow thrusts, in time with the rhythm of her hand. “Hold tighter, Lizzie. Want to imagine I’m inside you. Want to feel how you’d draw me in, how you’d feel around me.”
“I’d feel hot and wet, like this.” She took his hand from her thigh, moving it across and pressing his fingers against her, until they were almost, but not quite inside. When he slid them across her sex, she gasped, an inarticulate sound that echoed loud in the alley; she wondered if it had been heard in the street, but decided that she didn’t care. In truth, the building that hid them from sight could crumble away, leaving them exposed to the gaze of the crowd, and she wouldn’t care, for there was no stopping this freefall now. She grabbed Jack’s wrist and pushed his hand further between her thighs. With chin tilted in a wary question, he drew back, and she gave consent with one look; he held her eyes as his fingers slid inside, first one, then two, while his thumb rubbed against that sweet spot just above. “God, Jack…” she choked out, unable to give proper voice to the wave of sheer pleasure that engulfed her.
“Wish I could have you, Lizzie,” he whispered against her mouth, and she heard the tremor in his voice, felt how his body shook against hers with barely checked passion. “Wish I could take you right here. It’d be fast, love - time is not our friend after all - but god, Lizzie, it’d be hard and rough and glorious.”
Elizabeth’s body pulsed with desire, she could feel her climax building as his fingers moved inside her. “And if you had more time?”
“Oh darlin’, the things we could do with more time.”
“Tell me.”
He moved his other hand up across her bodice to rest on her breast and she cursed the thick brocade barrier of her gown. “You’d be naked for a start.” His fingers danced along her neckline, a tantalizing crawl across her skin. “I’d fight my way through whatever layers of frill you might have on just to feel you.”
“And you? Would you be naked?” She gripped tighter, running her hand along his shaft, feeling the skin slip over the end and back again.
“I’d be as naked as my lady desired,” he replied with a slow grin.
“Then what?”
“Then I’d kiss you.”
She smiled at the simplicity of the image. “Like this?” Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his, letting her tongue slide into his mouth, until it met his own. With a gentle tug of teeth on his lower lip she drew back, savouring the way his eyes darkened, and how he blinked as if to clear his head of too much heat and wine. He swallowed.
“You and Will have been doing more than practicing your swordsmanship I see. And yes, like that. At first.”
“At first?”
That grin again. His nose grazed hers, his lips a ghost away. A kiss, but not quite. “Like I said, Lizzie. You’re naked. A whole map laid out before me to explore with lips. And teeth. And tongue.” As he said each word, he kissed his way along her face, until he reached her ear. “Here and now, I’ll have to make do with the flesh that’s at me disposal, love. But the bud of an earlobe…” He caught her lobe between his teeth. “…is very much like the tip of a woman’s breast. A little softer perhaps, not quite so pink and lush, but whatever you feel here…” He pulled her earlobe into his mouth “…is what you would feel if I have my lips around your nipple.”
She moaned, an involuntary sound, deep and throaty, unsure which was more erotic - the feel of his lips and tongue at her ear, or the thought of his mouth upon her breast. He continued. “Of course, the Lord Almighty in all His wisdom has seen fit to give us two of everything. So I would suck the left one…” Another slow glide of lips across her lobe. “…until you screamed my name and begged me to stop. Then I’d move to the other.” He kissed his way across her face and then began licking and sucking at her other ear; in that moment, she was glad she was pinned against the wall, for she feared her knees would not support her otherwise. “And then of course there are other places to suck.”
“Jack.” She was so wet now that she could hear his hand moving against her.
“Why stop me, Lizzie? I had barely begun.”
She gripped him hard and he cursed again. “I don’t want you to talk anymore. I need you inside me.”
He drew back, shocked though he did his best to hide it. “Like I said, love, had we time enough.”
“We have five minutes, Jack, and we have the first way. Fast and hard and glorious.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, brow furrowed, as if with the sheer effort of not complying with her demands. “Bad idea, Lizzie.” She raised her eyebrow and licked her hand again, before sliding it over him, slow and tight. “Christ… well, not bad. Good, in fact,” he gasped out. “Very - oh fuck - good! But much as I want it to be, this alley isn’t the whole of the world, and as soon as you step back out into the sunshine, you’re the governor’s daughter again. Betrothed to your earnest and honourable blacksmith. Daresay he’d object to finding your maidenhead missing when your wedding night rolls around.”
But as he’d spoken, Elizabeth had curled her leg around his hip and hooked her arm tight around his neck. She kept her eyes locked with his as she lifted herself up, slipped his head along her folds, until it met the right spot, moist and swollen and ready. She watched his eyes widen as she slid him inside, taking him with ease, all the way to the hilt. With a shaky smile, he said, “ I see kissing isn’t the only thing you and young Will have been practicing. I’m surprised he even tried it on with you, respectable bloke that he is.”
Elizabeth began to move upon Jack, while his fingers still caressed her where they joined. “Will didn’t try anything. He took some persuading, in fact.”
“Oh, so impatient, my Lizzie. And no quickening yet to send you both rushing to the altar?” His words were glib, but there was something raw and almost fractured beneath them.
“We’re careful.”
“Can never be that careful, love.”
“We’re to marry in a month anyway. An eight month child would give the society vultures no more to gnaw on than my life already has of late.”
“Ah, the disgraced wanton who got up to all manner of unmentionable debauchery with a legendary pirate during a night of drink and song, eh?” His words were teasing, but he held her just a little tighter as he moved within, his touch was just that much softer, and when he kissed her then she could feel the penance on his lips.
“Three minutes, Jack. And while I drank wine with Barbossa, I don’t remember any song.”
He laughed then, as their rhythm picked up, and soon it was as he promised. Hard and fast. Rough and glorious. Not even the sound of Estrella calling her name from the street could entice her to stop. “I’m coming,” whispered Elizabeth, wild, and desperate for release. “I’m coming!” And so she did, falling apart as he thrust into her, her fingers pressing his to where she wanted them to be, just so. Then he pulled out with an urgent growl, unable to hold any longer, finishing off between both of their entwined hands, spending hot upon her thigh.
“Miss Swann!” The girls shout was frantic now, as Elizabeth and Jack gripped tight to each other for fear that they might fall.
“You’re being summoned,” he whispered against her shoulder. “Probably thinks I’ve abducted you.”
“She’s just worried about the trouble she’ll get into if she returns to the mansion without me.” Elizabeth fought to catch her breath.
Jack pushed himself away from the wall, away from her, and suddenly the alley seemed cold, despite the muggy Caribbean heat. He fastened his breeches and wiped the sweat from his face, and all the while she couldn’t take her eyes off him. “You’re looking a little mussed, Lizzie,” he said.
“Oh?” Elizabeth’s hand flew to her hair, her fingers tangling in the strands that had fallen from their pins. “I… I don’t have a mirror,” she said, not mentioning that she had no clue how to dress her own hair in such an intricate style. The noise from the street seemed louder now and once again she felt the world close in.
“Here,” said Jack, and stepped toward her, taking the pins from her hair and fastening the loose strands back into place. Then he stood back with a tilt of his head and a smile, clearly impressed with his work. She pressed her hands to her head; it wasn’t perfect, but it would do.
“Thank you,” she said. And after that there was nothing left for either of them to say. She straightened her skirts and walked around the corner. At the end of the alley, Estrella stood, facing out into the crowd, frantically searching for her mistress. Elizabeth could feel her thigh still wet with Jack’s release.
Suddenly her wrist was caught and she was pulled back against the hard wall of his body. He whispered in her ear, making her shudder once more and wish they had another fifteen minutes. “Tonight, will you be at home?”
“Yes,” she said, breathless. “I’m at home.”
“Have your bath drawn at eight, dismiss your maid, lock the door, and open your window at a quarter past. Then take your bath.”
She was dizzy, hungry with anticipation. “But how -?”
“Love, who am I?” She could hear the grin in his voice. “Now go get young Esther there before she has every redcoat looking for you. And remember, Lizzie.” He caught her earlobe between his lips once more, then said, “So much more can be achieved given time enough.”
And then she was in the heat of the afternoon sun once more, Estrella clutching at her arm and sobbing her apology. Elizabeth turned back toward the alley, but could see only darkness within, and she knew it was empty now.
As they headed home however, she realised that never before had she been so exhilarated at the thought of a bath.
~~~
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: J/E
Word Count: 4,202
Disclaimer: The Mouse Owns All
A/N: At last, a response to the hseas_challenge erotica prompt. Set post-CotBP, Elizabeth and Jack meet on Port Royal. Blatant, unapologetic PWP. Feedback adored, as always!
Port Royal squatted beneath a sultry sky, baked blue by a liquid sun. The heat sucked every breath from the air and, unbound though she was, Elizabeth found herself choking once more. Home was gone now, razed by a force more ruthless than the Black Pearl’s guns, for though the place wherein she had spent her formative years remained standing, Elizabeth knew that her restless heart would never more find shelter here.
Though she tried for the sake of her father to conform once more to life she had previously lived, it was impossible to pretend that all was as it was. She had seen too much now and her world had shifted, while here in the parlours and ballrooms, in pristine gardens and immaculate promenades, the doyenne defenders of English decorum raised their parasols against the harsh face of the outside world. They had not seen dead men walk, nor had they felt their lifeblood quicken in the heat of battle. For Elizabeth however, the mask of virginal docility had been lifted from her face and the world had been shown to her with a clarity that was breathtaking. Now she had returned to discover that the strictures of polite society were far more suffocating than whalebone and lace. Always, she would find herself longing for salt water spray and sun-gilded horizons.
There were times when she wanted nothing more than to speak of it with someone who had been there, someone who knew. But even during their most intimate moments - and of those there had been many since their return - Will was tight-lipped when it came to their pirate adventure and she had long since desisted from mentioning the subject. His journey, she understood, had been different from hers, for she had not found herself with a cursed pirate father, or a blood legacy that offended every principle for which she stood. Elizabeth did not think that a time would ever come when Will would embrace his connection to the sea.
So instead she sought refuge elsewhere. For one hour a week, her father allowed her a modicum of freedom, although when she told him what she intended on doing with that free hour, he had almost changed his mind.
“Young ladies do not go unaccompanied to the market, Elizabeth. It is simply not done. Think of your reputation, child.”
“I shall not be unaccompanied, father. Estrella will be with me. Furthermore I think my reputation was tainted beyond repair as soon as I set foot onboard the Black Pearl. You do not frequent ladies parlours for coffee afternoons, father, and so have not heard the whispers, which for some reason they think raised fans will prevent me from overhearing.” Her father had frowned at that and she wondered how a statesman could be so naïve when it came to the politics of the parlour; she almost thought it a shame to bare to him such ugly truths, but he must be made to realise what his daughter had now become in the eyes of others. “The men of His Majesty’s navy gossip like scullery maids, father, and there is scarce a family in all of Port Royal who does not now know of the scandalous night your daughter spent on an island with a notorious pirate. How can a fallen woman such as I be expected to rejoin polite society?”
As she’d spoke her father’s alarm had deepened. “But nothing untoward happened, Elizabeth. You assured me.” The statement was almost a question.
She sighed. “No, father, nothing happened. But those simpering pigeons act as if it was a surety that Jack Sparrow had his way with me.” She said nothing of their flushed chests and faces, or their thinly veiled excitement, as they asked breathless questions about what had taken place that night. It was tempting almost to make something up, and shock them with images that would have them reaching beneath the covers on hot, sleepless nights. Jack would approve of such an endeavour, she’d thought with a smile.
But she had made up no such stories and instead contented herself with small rebellions, such as today’s outing. Port Royal’s dockside market was a glut of heady scents, lush characters and vibrant language. What guile and artifice existed here was intended as such, as vendor’s plied their wares with showmanship and ingenuity, and Elizabeth would always throw herself into the game with much aplomb.
“Take a look at this silk, love. Shilling a yard. Same silk as favoured by the Queen of Italy. Sent her a bolt just last week, as it ‘appens. Just the thing for a fine lady like yerself.” The market trader unfurled the poorly woven material, which was most definitely not silk, and Elizabeth held it up to the light, while Estrella flirted with a nearby oyster seller whose stall was a basket slung around his neck.
“The Queen of Italy you say.” Elizabeth pursed her lips as if considering this impressive testimonial. “Quite the recommendation. However to my mind the only thing more fictitious than your clientele would be the worms who spun this so-called silk.”
The vendor raised his eyes in mock offence at this slur on his good name, then when it was apparent that he’d have no custom from her, he gave Elizabeth a grin and a wink and began calling over her head, trying to tempt other prospective buyers to his stall.
Turning towards the oyster seller, Elizabeth found that he was now alone. She scanned the crowd, but could see not a glimpse of her maid. At first she was merely annoyed; if her father discovered that she had been left unaccompanied at any time, he would not hesitate in withdrawing his permission for these weekly outings. She pushed her way through the busy market, cursing Estrella as she did so, but as time passed and she did not appear, Elizabeth irritation turned into alarm.
She slid her hand inside her reticule, fingers curling around the small knife within, a letter opener purloined from the father’s desk; though she loved the atmosphere of the market, she was not so foolish as to think she would never have cause to defend herself. The crowd was thinning now and the market stalls had come to an end, and still Estrella did not show. Elizabeth pressed herself against the row of shops and houses that lined one side of the street, certain now that some danger lurked close by. She should return home, she knew, but it was unconscionable that she should leave without Estrella, for who knew what might become of the girl if she did not find her?
So intent was she on keeping her eyes fixed on the street, that she didn’t notice how the wall had ended and there was nothing but air at her back. Only when an arm snaked out and grabbed her around her middle did she realise her error. She dropped her reticule, keeping the knife gripped in her hand, but her arms were pinned to her sides and the weapon was useless. Elizabeth was pulled backward into the shadow of the alley, a hand across her mouth cutting off her scream.
“Easy, Lizzie, easy,” breathed a familiar voice in her ear. “Hope it’s just letters you intend on opening with that pointy thing in your hand.”
Elizabeth froze and the knife clattered to the ground. The grip around her middle eased and she spun to face Jack Sparrow. “Jack! What are you doing here? Are you insane?” A mix of fear, elation and sheer anger waged war in her head and belly at the sight of him, all vibrant colour and deep shadow, as if cut from a richer cloth than the squalid backdrop of a Port Royal alley. She cast a quick look over her shoulder and pulled him around the corner into a narrow cul-de-sac filled with empty crates, out of sight of any curious passers-by who might have no qualms in notifying the nearest redcoat of Captain Sparrow’s return to Jamaica.
“Insanity’s subjective, Lizzie. Some might call it insane for a pretty young lass to be sauntering unaccompanied along thoroughfares which are less than respectable. And armed at that. If not insane then certainly less than decorous.” He drew his eyes down her figure then back up to her face. “Any scoundrel might happen upon you.”
She rolled her eyes. “I had a maid.”
“Oh?” He raised his brow. “And where might this alleged maid be now, eh?”
“She… I was talking to…” Elizabeth broke off and narrowed her eyes. “Yes, Jack. Where is my maid?”
He grinned, bright as a blade and just as cunning. “Seems young Estelle -”
“Estrella.”
A wave of his fingers. “Yes, her. Seems she’s rather susceptible to a proffered coin and a fluttered lash. She was keen enough to clear off when I asked her.”
“She wouldn’t.”
“Oh, she would, love. Or perhaps it was the story I spun of how I craved just fifteen minutes alone with the beautiful Miss Swann, she what got me drunk and broke me poor black heart.”
Despite herself, Elizabeth laughed. “You didn’t tell her that.”
“I did, although she seems to think the truth of the matter somewhat different.”
“Oh yes?”
“Oh yes. Young Esther -”
“Estrella.”
“Quite. Well, she tells me you ain’t stopped talking about me since you got home.”
“Jack!” He ducked away with a grin as she swatted him on the shoulder, but Elizabeth couldn’t stop herself from colouring. She hadn’t talked about him that much.
“So not true then?”
“Not a word.”
“Shame.”
Silence fell then, and Elizabeth realised that, as they’d been speaking, Jack had advanced, so that now her back was against the wall of the cul-de-sac. He leaned in, one hand resting on the wall just above her shoulder. “So,” she said, and cursed the hoarseness of her voice, “fifteen minutes.”
Jack nodded, that sly grin appearing once more.
“Doesn’t give you a whole lot of time. I’m not sure whether I should take umbrage that you wouldn’t spare the coin to buy half an hour with me.”
“Oh, love, a lot can be accomplished in fifteen minutes.”
Don’t ask don’t ask don’t ask.
“Like what?”
He started at that, as if he had not expected his innuendo to meet with such a response, and for a moment it seemed that he was floundering for an answer. Then he swallowed. “Could show you,” he said, as if amazed that events might be taking this turn. He placed his other hand upon the wall.
Elizabeth let her head drop back against the hard brick, exposing her throat, and she wondered if he could see the pulse that fluttered there. This really was insanity, and a flicker of fear worked its way from her stomach to her chest as she realised the dangerous road they were headed down. She should put a stop to this while it was still just talk.
Jack’s hand left wall, his fingers trailing down her neck, across her collar bone, over the hint of her décolletage. They danced a path down her bodice and came to rest on her waist. “Do you remember how I stripped you of this before? Do you remember how I cut you loose?”
“I was starved of breath and close to drowning. I remember a shadow, a ghost, nothing more.”
“Perhaps that’s all you need me to be.”
“I need…” But her breath caught and she couldn’t finish, because Jack was plucking at her skirts, gathering them in his fist.
“We have ten minutes left, Lizzie. What do you need?”
“Jack…”
“Tell me.”
She could feel the air swirl about her exposed calves, cool after the hot weight of her skirts. There were so many reasons this was wrong, reasons she should push him away and run home to the mansion without looking back. There was propriety and virtue. There was honour. There was Will. But she knew that none of those things would make her put an end to this. “We are in the street.”
“Nine. And not quite the street. Tell me what you need.” He pressed a kiss to her neck and suddenly it was too much. She moved, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him forward until their foreheads touched, while her other hand reached for his breeches, feeling the hardness there. Evidently such a move was not expected. “Oh fuck, Lizzie…”
She gasped and then smiled at his reaction, the obscenity on his lips making desire pulse low in her belly. “Not good?” she asked, though she knew that it was.
“Oh, good, love. Most definitely good. But almost didn’t need the full time allotted to us there. Warn me before you try a move that might have me shooting me fetch in me own breeches, eh?”
“Say that word again.”
“What word?” She pressed the ball of her palm down the hard ridge in his breeches and he cursed once more.
“That one.”
“Ah, like it do you? Like to hear me talk like that?” She nodded and he leaned in to press a kiss to the hollow of her throat, before whispering, “There are other words too, Lizzie. Words only suited to a dissolute villain like meself. Words like cock...” He pressed a kiss to the side of her mouth. “And quim…” A sweep of tongue along her parted lips. “Me mouth is as filthy as me soul, love.” She groaned, feeling heat flood between her thighs. He was dark sin and impossible longing, and she hungered for both. Hands grasped her buttocks and she realised he’d drawn her skirts up again, until she was almost naked and pressed against him. “Can feel you now, Lizzie. Can feel how much you crave it.”
“Jack?”
“Mm?” His hands, kneading her flesh, pulling and grasping.
She moved closer, whispering against his lips. “Give me your cock.”
“Jesus…” With frantic fumbling, he undid his breeches, and she bit her lip as he sprang free. She reached for him, but he grabbed her wrist and held her hand up to her face. “Let me show you how to make it sweeter, Lizzie. Lick your palm.” When she complied, moistening her hand from wrist to finger tip, he brought her hand down and wrapped it around his length, which swelled even more as she stroked; she relished the way his soft skin slid back and forth over the steel within.
His eyes were heavy lidded as he moved his hips with slow thrusts, in time with the rhythm of her hand. “Hold tighter, Lizzie. Want to imagine I’m inside you. Want to feel how you’d draw me in, how you’d feel around me.”
“I’d feel hot and wet, like this.” She took his hand from her thigh, moving it across and pressing his fingers against her, until they were almost, but not quite inside. When he slid them across her sex, she gasped, an inarticulate sound that echoed loud in the alley; she wondered if it had been heard in the street, but decided that she didn’t care. In truth, the building that hid them from sight could crumble away, leaving them exposed to the gaze of the crowd, and she wouldn’t care, for there was no stopping this freefall now. She grabbed Jack’s wrist and pushed his hand further between her thighs. With chin tilted in a wary question, he drew back, and she gave consent with one look; he held her eyes as his fingers slid inside, first one, then two, while his thumb rubbed against that sweet spot just above. “God, Jack…” she choked out, unable to give proper voice to the wave of sheer pleasure that engulfed her.
“Wish I could have you, Lizzie,” he whispered against her mouth, and she heard the tremor in his voice, felt how his body shook against hers with barely checked passion. “Wish I could take you right here. It’d be fast, love - time is not our friend after all - but god, Lizzie, it’d be hard and rough and glorious.”
Elizabeth’s body pulsed with desire, she could feel her climax building as his fingers moved inside her. “And if you had more time?”
“Oh darlin’, the things we could do with more time.”
“Tell me.”
He moved his other hand up across her bodice to rest on her breast and she cursed the thick brocade barrier of her gown. “You’d be naked for a start.” His fingers danced along her neckline, a tantalizing crawl across her skin. “I’d fight my way through whatever layers of frill you might have on just to feel you.”
“And you? Would you be naked?” She gripped tighter, running her hand along his shaft, feeling the skin slip over the end and back again.
“I’d be as naked as my lady desired,” he replied with a slow grin.
“Then what?”
“Then I’d kiss you.”
She smiled at the simplicity of the image. “Like this?” Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his, letting her tongue slide into his mouth, until it met his own. With a gentle tug of teeth on his lower lip she drew back, savouring the way his eyes darkened, and how he blinked as if to clear his head of too much heat and wine. He swallowed.
“You and Will have been doing more than practicing your swordsmanship I see. And yes, like that. At first.”
“At first?”
That grin again. His nose grazed hers, his lips a ghost away. A kiss, but not quite. “Like I said, Lizzie. You’re naked. A whole map laid out before me to explore with lips. And teeth. And tongue.” As he said each word, he kissed his way along her face, until he reached her ear. “Here and now, I’ll have to make do with the flesh that’s at me disposal, love. But the bud of an earlobe…” He caught her lobe between his teeth. “…is very much like the tip of a woman’s breast. A little softer perhaps, not quite so pink and lush, but whatever you feel here…” He pulled her earlobe into his mouth “…is what you would feel if I have my lips around your nipple.”
She moaned, an involuntary sound, deep and throaty, unsure which was more erotic - the feel of his lips and tongue at her ear, or the thought of his mouth upon her breast. He continued. “Of course, the Lord Almighty in all His wisdom has seen fit to give us two of everything. So I would suck the left one…” Another slow glide of lips across her lobe. “…until you screamed my name and begged me to stop. Then I’d move to the other.” He kissed his way across her face and then began licking and sucking at her other ear; in that moment, she was glad she was pinned against the wall, for she feared her knees would not support her otherwise. “And then of course there are other places to suck.”
“Jack.” She was so wet now that she could hear his hand moving against her.
“Why stop me, Lizzie? I had barely begun.”
She gripped him hard and he cursed again. “I don’t want you to talk anymore. I need you inside me.”
He drew back, shocked though he did his best to hide it. “Like I said, love, had we time enough.”
“We have five minutes, Jack, and we have the first way. Fast and hard and glorious.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, brow furrowed, as if with the sheer effort of not complying with her demands. “Bad idea, Lizzie.” She raised her eyebrow and licked her hand again, before sliding it over him, slow and tight. “Christ… well, not bad. Good, in fact,” he gasped out. “Very - oh fuck - good! But much as I want it to be, this alley isn’t the whole of the world, and as soon as you step back out into the sunshine, you’re the governor’s daughter again. Betrothed to your earnest and honourable blacksmith. Daresay he’d object to finding your maidenhead missing when your wedding night rolls around.”
But as he’d spoken, Elizabeth had curled her leg around his hip and hooked her arm tight around his neck. She kept her eyes locked with his as she lifted herself up, slipped his head along her folds, until it met the right spot, moist and swollen and ready. She watched his eyes widen as she slid him inside, taking him with ease, all the way to the hilt. With a shaky smile, he said, “ I see kissing isn’t the only thing you and young Will have been practicing. I’m surprised he even tried it on with you, respectable bloke that he is.”
Elizabeth began to move upon Jack, while his fingers still caressed her where they joined. “Will didn’t try anything. He took some persuading, in fact.”
“Oh, so impatient, my Lizzie. And no quickening yet to send you both rushing to the altar?” His words were glib, but there was something raw and almost fractured beneath them.
“We’re careful.”
“Can never be that careful, love.”
“We’re to marry in a month anyway. An eight month child would give the society vultures no more to gnaw on than my life already has of late.”
“Ah, the disgraced wanton who got up to all manner of unmentionable debauchery with a legendary pirate during a night of drink and song, eh?” His words were teasing, but he held her just a little tighter as he moved within, his touch was just that much softer, and when he kissed her then she could feel the penance on his lips.
“Three minutes, Jack. And while I drank wine with Barbossa, I don’t remember any song.”
He laughed then, as their rhythm picked up, and soon it was as he promised. Hard and fast. Rough and glorious. Not even the sound of Estrella calling her name from the street could entice her to stop. “I’m coming,” whispered Elizabeth, wild, and desperate for release. “I’m coming!” And so she did, falling apart as he thrust into her, her fingers pressing his to where she wanted them to be, just so. Then he pulled out with an urgent growl, unable to hold any longer, finishing off between both of their entwined hands, spending hot upon her thigh.
“Miss Swann!” The girls shout was frantic now, as Elizabeth and Jack gripped tight to each other for fear that they might fall.
“You’re being summoned,” he whispered against her shoulder. “Probably thinks I’ve abducted you.”
“She’s just worried about the trouble she’ll get into if she returns to the mansion without me.” Elizabeth fought to catch her breath.
Jack pushed himself away from the wall, away from her, and suddenly the alley seemed cold, despite the muggy Caribbean heat. He fastened his breeches and wiped the sweat from his face, and all the while she couldn’t take her eyes off him. “You’re looking a little mussed, Lizzie,” he said.
“Oh?” Elizabeth’s hand flew to her hair, her fingers tangling in the strands that had fallen from their pins. “I… I don’t have a mirror,” she said, not mentioning that she had no clue how to dress her own hair in such an intricate style. The noise from the street seemed louder now and once again she felt the world close in.
“Here,” said Jack, and stepped toward her, taking the pins from her hair and fastening the loose strands back into place. Then he stood back with a tilt of his head and a smile, clearly impressed with his work. She pressed her hands to her head; it wasn’t perfect, but it would do.
“Thank you,” she said. And after that there was nothing left for either of them to say. She straightened her skirts and walked around the corner. At the end of the alley, Estrella stood, facing out into the crowd, frantically searching for her mistress. Elizabeth could feel her thigh still wet with Jack’s release.
Suddenly her wrist was caught and she was pulled back against the hard wall of his body. He whispered in her ear, making her shudder once more and wish they had another fifteen minutes. “Tonight, will you be at home?”
“Yes,” she said, breathless. “I’m at home.”
“Have your bath drawn at eight, dismiss your maid, lock the door, and open your window at a quarter past. Then take your bath.”
She was dizzy, hungry with anticipation. “But how -?”
“Love, who am I?” She could hear the grin in his voice. “Now go get young Esther there before she has every redcoat looking for you. And remember, Lizzie.” He caught her earlobe between his lips once more, then said, “So much more can be achieved given time enough.”
And then she was in the heat of the afternoon sun once more, Estrella clutching at her arm and sobbing her apology. Elizabeth turned back toward the alley, but could see only darkness within, and she knew it was empty now.
As they headed home however, she realised that never before had she been so exhilarated at the thought of a bath.
~~~