THE CAPTURE: The Marriage Diaries, Volume 6 (Invitation To Eden) (3 page)

“All that’s left is to get you dressed,” one of the girls, Claire, said as she ushered Jillian into a smaller, adjoining room with a full length mirror, and pieces of clothing hanging from a few pegs on the wall that had a costume feel to them.

Claire stood there, waiting for Jillian to take off the silk robe, and she smiled at the younger woman. “I think I can manage to get dressed on my own.”

“My job is to help, and you might have some trouble with the ties.”

Jillian didn’t know what “ties” the girl was referring to, but considering Claire had already seen Jillian naked in the spa, she stripped off the robe and let the girl do her job. Turning Jillian away from the mirror, Claire removed a white cotton blouse from a hanger and pulled it over her head, followed by helping her step into a flowing black skirt that fell to her calves but had a side slit on the left side that reached all the way up to her upper thigh and exposed the length of her leg.

Jillian was all too aware of the fact that she didn’t have any underwear on beneath the blouse and skirt—especially the blouse, since it was pulled tight across her breasts and she could see her own nipples through the thin, white fabric. “Umm, I think you forgot my bra and panties.”

“No, Mistress,” Claire said, amusement in her voice as she reached for what looked like a very wide belt and wrapped it around Jillian’s waist with the two ends meeting in the front. “I was instructed to make sure you didn’t wear any.”

“Oh.”
Dean’s
instructions, no doubt, she thought, her cheeks warming in realization.

Claire ducked her head, hiding her smile as she started lacing up the front of what appeared to be an under-the-bust corset in a gorgeous red brocade. The other woman pulled the silk ribbons tight, cinching in Jillian’s waist with the steel boning and plumping up her breasts over the top edge. When she was done with the bindings, she adjusted the sleeves of Jillian’s blouse off her arms, then helped her into a pair of shiny, black, knee-length, patent leather boots with a three inch heel.

Finished dressing Jillian, Claire turned her back around so she could see her reflection in the mirror.

Jillian inhaled a startled breath, barely recognizing the wanton woman staring back at her. Her lustrous hair fell around her bare shoulders, framing the ample cleavage spilling indecently from the low, tight bodice of her blouse. The corset gave her curves a voluptuous, hour-glass shape, and if she wasn’t careful with the way she walked, the high slit in her skirt had the potential of flashing her girly-bits to anyone looking her way. The sexy,
fuck-me
boots laced up the sides and completed the seductive ensemble.

“I think you’re going to cause quite the commotion with all those randy sailors at the auction today.”

Claire’s comment pulled Jillian’s attention back to the other woman. “Auction?”

“Yes, Mistress,” she said with a nod of her head. “Samson sells all the wenches he kidnaps to the highest bidder. It’s rumored that the notorious Black Heart will be there. Men fear him, and women revere him because he’s known for his insatiable sexual appetite.”

Oh, my
. Jillian’s mind raced as she realized which fantasy of hers Dean was creating—being taken by a dominant, rogue of a pirate. While she was certainly dressed the part of a
wench
, she had no idea what was about to transpire, but the thought of being ravished and plundered by a swashbuckling outlaw sent a secret, illicit thrill arcing through her, especially if
Dean
was Black Heart.

A door behind her opened and an older man with a weathered face and gray grizzly beard strode in, dressed in tattered pirate garb. He held a coiled length of rope in one hand, and an old pistol was tucked into the belt wrapped around his waist.

“I’ve come to fetch the dame,” he said, his voice gruff and slightly accented. “Is she ready?”

“Yes, sir,” Claire responded, and stepped aside so the older man could approach Jillian.

He stopped a few feet away, his narrowed eyes assessing all of her, seemingly pleased with what he saw. “What a bonny wench you are. You should bring in a tidy sum at the auction. These sailors have been at sea for months and are hungry for a taste of something sweet like you.”

He walked behind her and gathered both of Jillian’s hands at the base of her spine. As soon as she felt him wrap the soft hewn rope around her wrists, she had a moment of uncertainty as fantasy blurred with reality, and her gaze sought Claire’s.

The other woman must have sensed her panic, because Claire was quick to offer a reassurance. “Your safe word applies at all times.”

Claire’s statement automatically calmed her, and let her know that Dean was truly orchestrating this entire scenario, even if he wasn’t present at the moment. Knowing she had that safeguard in place allowed her to slip into character and enjoy the fantasy.

Once Samson had her hands secured, he grabbed her arm and led her through the door he’d just entered. As soon as they stepped through, Jillian noticed an immediate change . . . the corridor, made up of faded red brick, was cool and damp, with sconces lighting the way. As they neared the end of the tunnel, the sound of lyrical music, as well as loud, raucous laughter and general merriment grew louder, until the passageway opened into what appeared to be an old-time alehouse. The pub was filled with sailors and pirates who were drinking ale and rum, and chasing the tavern maids who didn’t seem to mind being man-handled, if their bawdy laughter was anything to go by.

It all looked and felt so real, as if she’d been transported back to Tortuga in the 1700’s. Samson led her up three steps to a wooden platform,
clearly an auction block
, that overlooked the entire establishment and put her on display. The place immediately quieted down, and the men in the pub shifted their attention to her. With her hands still tied behind her back, and Samson holding the end of the rope, Jillian had no choice but to stand in front of the entire tavern and endure all the lewd and lascivious stares.

She searched the place for Dean, but couldn’t find him anywhere.

A male voice from the crowd yelled out, “What do you have for us there, Samson?”

“The finest wench gold can buy, to do with as you please,” he replied in that gruff voice of his. “Her hair’s like silk and her skin is soft and supple. Just look at that lush mouth and those firm tits, so don’t be stingy with your coins. Who’ll put up the first bid for this fine piece of female flesh?”

Samson’s prompting was all it took for the sailors and pirates to start yelling out different sums of gold and silver, each one topping the previous amount. The men turned aggressive and contentious as they battled it out for supremacy, and as the bids climbed higher and higher, so did the anxious sensation swirling in the pit of Jillian’s stomach because she suddenly felt very vulnerable. Here she was, shackled and in a strange place, and the rabid men in the tavern were eyeing her hungrily as they vied to purchase her—what if one them actually
won
her?

She swallowed hard at the thought, feeling a bit dizzy by the crazy bidding war going on in front of her.

“Going once to Captain Howell,” Sampson called out once the bidding reach a staggering amount that no one else could afford to top.

Captain Howell, confident in his win, stepped forward to claim her. He looked reminiscent of Johnny Depp’s character as Jack Sparrow in The Pirates of the Caribbean—complete with his hair in dreadlocks with beads and feathers, a braided goatee, and well-worn pirate garb. A small knife was sheathed to his belt, and when he smiled wolfishly, his gold front tooth glimmered. He appeared
very
adept at pillaging and plundering.

“Going twice to Captain Howell . . .”

Jillian’s heart pounded frantically in her chest as Sampson opened his mouth to award the man his prize . . .
her
.

“I will
double
the amount of anyone’s bid,” came a familiar male voice before the auctioneer spoke those final words. “The wench is my slave and will belong to me.”

A tavern maid standing near the stage gasped in awe. “Oh, my God, it’s
Black Heart
.”

From a shadowed corner of the pub, Dean—or rather, Black Heart—stepped out and strolled confidently toward the platform, and Jillian’s knees nearly buckled in relief. The other men backed away, except for the Jack Sparrow look-alike who held his position, while the women in the room stared at the approaching rogue with envy and pure, unadulterated lust.

His presence was undeniably commanding. While the rest of the pirates in the tavern looked weathered by months at sea, Black Heart looked stunningly gorgeous and noble in a loose, white, long-sleeved shirt, a black embroidered waistcoat, and tight black breeches that hugged his lean hips and strong thighs and tucked into a pair of shiny black leather boots.

Howell puffed out his chest and glared belligerently at Black Heart. “Back down,” he said sternly. “Samson was just about to award her to me.”

Black Heart gave the other man a calloused look. “He did not finalize the bid, therefore I believe I topped your price, as well as everyone else’s in this tavern.”

The other man put his hand on the small knife at his waist. “Are you challenging me?”

“I will challenge
anyone
in order to claim her,” Black Heart said, and wrapped his fingers around the jeweled handle of the much larger and more lethal sword sheathed at his side.

The whole exchange was so sexy and barbaric, Jillian had to suppress the urge to swoon—and quickly reminded herself that in this fantasy, this dark and dangerous pirate who wanted her as a
slave
was the enemy, not her savior.

“Don’t be stupid, Howell,” Samson barked out. “This man’s ruthless reputation precedes him. Do you wish to die tonight?”

Howell stood his ground for a few more seconds then begrudgingly walked away, conceding defeat. Once he was gone, Black Heart casually made his way up to the small dais, looming large as he stopped in front of Jillian, making her very aware of the fact that they still had an audience below. Refusing to fall to his feet in servitude, she pushed back her shoulders and lifted her chin in a show of defiance.

His heated gaze dropped to the full, generous breasts nearly overflowing her blouse from the stays in her corset, then traveled up to her lips. Threading his fingers tight into her hair until it was wrapped around his wrist, he pulled her head back so that she was forced to look up at him. His eyes burned with desire, and without warning he crushed his mouth to hers in a kiss that was hot, hard, and unapologetically dominating—claiming her for all to witness, in the most basic, primal way possible.

His wide shoulders blocked her view of everyone else, but she could hear the women cheering and the male patrons tossing out cat-calls and bawdy comments to egg him on. Despite being on display, a thrill shot through her, pooling into liquid heat between her legs—and still he wasn’t done marking her, branding her as his. His hand boldly slid into the high opening in her skirt and skimmed up her thigh, his tongue delving deeper into her mouth just as he touched her bare, freshly waxed pussy and slid two fingers between the lips of her sex.

Her body jolted at his indecent caress, and a possessive growl erupted from his throat as he wedged a booted foot between hers and forced her to widen her stance, giving him complete access to her. He pushed one finger, then two, deep into her slick channel and brushed his thumb across her clit.

She hated herself for groaning, for shuddering, for nearly melting at the skillful way he fucked her with his fingers and rubbed against that sensitive spot inside of her that threatened to tip her over into a screaming orgasm. With her hands bound behind her back, and his fingers gripping her hair, she was at his sweet, decadent mercy, and he had no qualms about taking advantage of that fact.

With concentrated effort, she once again lectured herself that she was supposed to resist this man who’d just bought her, this rake of a pirate who intended to use her as his slave to slake his physical needs and lust. Tugging her head back from his tight hold on her hair, she put up a decent struggle to pull her mouth away, and he ended the kiss, though she knew it was only because
he’d
wanted the kiss to end. There was no doubt in her mind that he could easily overpower her if he wanted to.

He withdrew his fingers slowly from her body. His eyes were dark and so hot as they stared into hers that she felt singed, everywhere. “I’m not sure what I’ll enjoy fucking first,” he mused, a wicked smile curving his full, sensual lips. “Your mouth, your tits, or your soft, warm cunt.”

He’d loosened his hold on her hair to allow just enough slack that she was able to unexpectedly nip at his lower lip with her teeth—not hard enough to break the skin, but definitely firm enough to illicit a sting of pain and show him she wasn’t docile or submissive.

He instinctively jerked back and rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip where she’d assaulted him, clearly shocked by her audacity—and more than a little turned on by the challenge she presented, if the amusement filling his gaze was anything to go by.

“This one is full of fire,” Samson said around a bellowing laugh. “You’ll get your money’s worth with her, and more.”

“Aye,” Black Heart agreed, the pirate slang sounding so incredibly sexy coming from his lips. “I’m counting on it. I like my women spirited. Makes the surrender all the more satisfying.”

She jutted her chin out rebelliously. “I will never surrender to the likes of you!”

“Mark my words, slave. You
will
yield and submit, and enjoy doing so.” He took the ropes securing her wrists from Samson and wrapped the ends around his strong hand. “I’ve been at sea for months, and it’s been too long since my cock has been buried in a woman’s soft heat, and yours is ripe for plundering.”

The bawdy sailors cheered him on with lewd comments and encouragements and Jillian’s cheeks flushed pink at all the obscenely sexual suggestions being shouted their way.